#nothing bothers me quite like this does in this fandom
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"Crouch is cute 😍😍"
"Nazis aren't cute"
"In this fic he's not a Nazi, he's an adorable little skittle"
Then he's an original character. You've lost all semblance of Barty Crouch Jr. His entire characterization is sycophantic follower of wizard Hitler. Give your character a new name and an OC tag. You're not talking about Crouch anymore.
It's okay to write original characters. But know that's what you're doing.
#marauders#marauders era#dead gay wizards#barty crouch jr#barty crouch junior#i so this one every six months or so#nothing bothers me quite like this does in this fandom#i HAAAAAAAATE what jegulus has become but I'll survive it#i am annoyed by what wolfstar has become but I'll survive it#i can handle most things#but i cannot handle the OC'ing of one of the most detailed villains in these stupid books#he is not a blank slate#he is a big character with more backstory than any non-Black marauders era character got
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Hello! I hope I am not bothering you :) I was wondering if I could ask for a Cregan Stark x Reader where they have a busy day and cuddle under the furs for the night, sweet kisses and pillow talks and all this kinda stuff. Just a small drabble would be ok.
i adore fluffy so please make it as sweet as you can, thank you :(
Fandom: House of the Dragon
Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader
Words: 952
The arrival of winter was always a busy time in the North. As the Lord and Lady of Winterfell, Cregan and you had spent the entire day overseeing the preparations for the upcoming winter. The castle buzzed with activity as you both coordinated food storage for the harsh winter to come. It was your duty to make sure that the people of the North would be well-protected against the biting cold. You had assisted Cregan throughout the day, your presence a constant source of support and encouragement. Whether it was reviewing the storeroom inventory or ensuring that the workers were well-fed and rested, you had worked tirelessly alongside him.
As the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the snow-covered landscape, the fatigue of the day began to weigh heavily on you. You glanced at Cregan, who was engaged in a final discussion with his advisors. His strong and commanding presence never ceased to inspire you, but even he looked tired at the moment. Finally, he sent them on their way and walked over to where you were standing, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You must be tired, my love. Come, let's retire for the night." He held your hand and led you out of the hall.
You made your way to your chambers, the warmth of the castle a stark contrast to the icy chill outside. Cregan held your hand the entire way. You felt a sense of relief as you entered the cozy room, the flickering fire casting a comforting glow. Cregan closed the door behind him, and the day's burdens seemed to melt away. You let out a long sigh which elicited a soft laugh from your husband.
"What's so funny, my lord?" you asked him.
He shook his head and hugged you from behind. "Nothing. You truly are very tired. Forgive me, in between all the preparations for the winter, I perhaps didn't pay much attention to you today."
You turned around still in his embrace and wrapped your arms around his torso. He rested his chin atop your head and hugged you closer to himself. "Not at all, dear husband. You were doing your duty and so was I. I'm indeed tired but I'm also quite proud of how much we accomplished in just a day."
He kissed the top of your head and released you from his hold. A chill ran over you in the absence of his warmth. Without another word, Cregan began to shed his heavy cloak and boots. You followed suit. You both moved in a comfortable silence, the kind that comes from deep understanding and mutual affection. Once you were both in your nightclothes, Cregan pulled back the thick furs on the bed, inviting you to join him.
You put your clothes on the chair and walked over to him. He had already climbed under the warm furs. You quickly slipped beneath the furs, the soft, warm fabric enveloping you in a cocoon of comfort. Cregan immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. Snuggling against his chest, you could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.
"You know what", his deep voice rang, sending shivers down your spine, "today was truly exhausting. It feels like there is a mountain on top of my head."
You tilted your head to look up at him, your eyes filled with care and love. "Does it ache a lot? I can call the maesters. There is no reason for you to suffer, my love."
Cregan shook his head slowly and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "It's nothing I can't handle. Besides, you've tired yourself enough today. Now I want you to stay here and rest."
You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin. Cregan leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble of warmth and love. When you finally pulled away, Cregan rested his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling in the cool air.
You lay there for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a gentle light over the room. Cregan's hand stroked your hair, his touch soothing and tender. You were just starting to fall asleep when Cregan suddenly asked, "Do you remember the first time we met?" a smile playing on his lips.
A sound somewhat between a sigh and a laugh left your lips. "How could I forget? You were so serious and intimidating. I thought I'd never get through to you." Cregan smiled, looking at you with love and admiration in his eyes. "We've come a long way since then," he said softly. He leaned in to kiss you again, his lips soft and tender against yours.
"I love you, Cregan," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity.
"I love you too," he replied, kissing you once more. "More than words can say."
As the night wore on, the soft crackling of the fire and Cregan's steady breathing played on like a lullaby, summoning you into the land of dreams. Eventually, your eyes grew heavy, and you nestled closer to Cregan, your head resting on his chest. Cregan held you close, his arms a protective cocoon around you. "Sleep, my love," he murmured, pressing a final kiss to your forehead. "I'll be here when you wake." You sighed contentedly, your eyes fluttering shut. "Goodnight, Cregan", you breathed out before falling asleep.
"Goodnight," Cregan replied softly, his own eyes closing as he held you close.
#hotd#hotd x reader#hotd fanfic#cregan stark#cregan stark x reader#cregan stark x you#cregan stark fanfic#andreawritesit
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Girl when I tell you I absolutely NEED part 3 to Customary or I might die!! Omggg that yearning shit had me covering the smile on my mouth and licking my feet. 🤭 It’s too good! It’s too cute! You might actually be a wizard. I’m bowing down to you, slow-burn queen 🙌
My fingers.... They are burning.... with dESIRE.
Title: Wounded Pride. Fandom: ( Kindgom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Mentions of violence, blood, injury and mating. ) Words: 6K ( Someone stop me jk don't. ) Pairing: Implied! Noa x Human!Reader. Summary: You were ignoring each other, that much was clear. How long was it going to last? Noa felt like he was bursting at the seams and you felt like you had lost all sense of reasoning. ** Does Contain Spoilers for Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. **
READ THE SERIES HERE. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・ “Noa!” That was a frantic tone and lured the Chimp to raise his head in question. His ears moved to focus on where it was coming from. Off to his left, maybe 10 or so meters away. Not too far if he needed to run. He made a barking sound in response. Hearing his name was not enough. His vision caught a few things. Leaves tangling against the ruins of a past structure. Echo in nature, through and through and hideously ugly. Nothing like what Apes built he beamed with decent pride at that. His body swung at the sound of his name vibrating along the walls encapsulating him like a barren playground. His set of feet and hands were pressed into the ground now. He was braced, ready to take off. Respond, Noa’s mind felt like it was melting, waiting for his fellow friends to communicate. He traced his gaze right along the trees that were bursting through the sturdy concrete, determined to grow in such ludacris circumstances. His chest rose and fell rapidly, faster than he had felt in quite some time, at least since his encounter with Proximus Caesar. “Noa! You need to come quick!” The fur along his spine pricked at that, standing on edge. A sensation not often felt with him. It screamed ‘danger ahead!’ His nerves yelled at him, muscles feeling tense. The voice was very much Soona’s, tangling with Anaya’s as they began yelling over each other. Well, it couldn’t have been that serious if they were both taking time to yell, some tanglement of arguing with each other hitting Noa’s ears as he finally picked his pace up to a gallop. Coming to what could only be described as a skirting stop, Noa’s hands and feet dug into the earth below him to stop him from tumbling over, making quite crazed eye contact with Soona and Anaya as his mind caught up with his body. Both unharmed, he sighed from relief at that. Anaya was breathing heavily - Nervous? Noa questioned silently and looked at Soona again, shoulders fraught. He stared at her, expecting an explanation without having to ask for one. She was quick to oblige but didn't bother with words. Merely stepping aside, her entire self bumped into Anaya’s and they both shuffled to the side on all fours looking between Noa and what was behind them in the long grass that grew without care. Noa came forward, keeping his senses on guard in case there was danger with what Soona and Anaya had found. His friends were fast to follow right behind him. Noa never had it in him to advise that he was just as scared as they were at times like this. He swallowed it down and did what he needed. Soona and Anaya needed him to be brave and that was often his gift to them. Their gift back? Their unwavering friendship and support through the years. Green eyes scaled the grassy area in front of him to observe before he got too close. Some blades were painted red. Noa hesitated briefly. It had to be blood, Noa roughly vocalized to Soona and Anaya to stand back, stay back. They did just that, stopping their movements as Noa bridged the gap of two feet between himself and the patch.
“Still… Alive?” Soona asked quietly. Noa glanced back at her, watching as she dipped her head precariously. Anaya was standing close to her, holding onto her arm out of fear. Noa looked back at the grass, or rather, what was in it. Between the long entanglements of weeds and vines he could make out the striking notions of blood splatter. Fresh, it still looked wet. Swallowing back something that was resting in his throat, Noa stood. If there was danger, he needed to appear as large as he could. One of the many tactics a Chimpanzee had when faced with the unknown. The extra height he got going from all fours to bi-pedal was all he needed to see clearly what was in that busted patch of grass. ‘Echo!’ He signed at Anaya and Soona.
‘Has to still be alive!’ Anaya was fast to respond to his best friend, his hands finding it a bit difficult to move so quickly. The next set of words were jumbled but Noa understood. It had made a sound when Soona and Anaya probed it, which prompted them to call Noa in return.
‘What…’ Soona’s signing was slow compared to Anaya’s. She was always more thoughtful and Noa savored that in this moment, trying so hard to keep himself from going straight into panic. ‘What… do.. We do?’
‘Put out of misery.’ Anaya wasn’t joking.
Noa held his hand up, fingers twisted into a hard fist. Soona and Anaya both fell deathly quiet. He was not about to mercy kill. What was in front of him would die on its own once the cold of the night came around. There was evident damage to their legs, close to the ankles, blood pooling there and trickling down the smooth nature of the skin into the dirt below. He made a fast sign to his friends telling them. He heard them both gasp under their breath as Noa made a move closer, crouching to get more detail, his hands and feet tangling in on themselves with the spaced movement of Noa’s broad body. Cut around the temple, hit by rock maybe, or fell on face, burns around wrists, most likely from being bound. Noa was making quick notes of what he was seeing. He looked right. Nothing. He looked to the left and noticed blood droplets and traced their trajectory mindfully. It was coming from the direction of the cave that kept the Eagle Clan secluded from other Apes in the area. That was all Noa needed to know. The Echo in front of him must have been hunted, nearly to the brink of death. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・
‘How?’ Anaya signed at Noa, huffing deeply at his friend who was pacing, very distraught. The sounds from the Ape in front of him told Noa to stop moving and to focus, pay attention to the conversation at hand but it was apparent with the shoulder movements of aggravation that that was not going to happen. Noa was an obsessive creature, and Anaya knew that. Once he was locked and entranced by something, by any force of nature, Noa would tear it open and figure it out to satisfy his need to fix, his need to deduce. That’s what made him so good at tinkering, at resolving. It must have been a secretive thing Noa wanted to talk about this time around, eager to get Anaya alone. Stalking and biding his time almost all day to get his friend pinned for a conversation. Without Soona, without his mother. ‘Echo got offended?’ The signing of those words were accompanied by a funny face, Anaya very obviously curious how Noa had managed that one. Neither had heard of an Echo being offended, though, from the Elders of the Clan, they had always made the assumption that they were quick to anger. Maybe the same thing, Anaya bargained with Noa, but Noa felt this was different than simple anger and told his friend that sternly.
Noa had put everything incredibly broad, unsure of how to approach his closest confidant with what had happened between himself and you. Too many details would give away Noa’s primal intent. He gave the gist of it with words a few minutes ago, Anaya intently listening to Noa’s voice waver. Up and down, the placement of his tone unsure and full of self-loathing. He continued, explaining in part the conversation about the human custom of kissing, only the important details, followed by a very cliff-noted version of the hunting endeavor. Anaya must have sensed the urgency, choosing to sign rather than put more effort into it by speaking. Anyway, he justified it further by thinking that signing was more private. Less likely for someone to overhear, or well…. Oversee. Tilting his head to the side, Anaya felt a sigh roll from him as Noa finally stopped pacing, now choosing to sit rather defensively on his hands and feet. ‘How?’ Anaya repeated.
‘I do not know.’ Shamefully, Noa dropped his hands after admitting that, his jaw clenching tightly for a moment as he grinded his teeth together. They clattered, his canines distracting his train of thought for a split second as he moved his tongue over them. ‘Echo just…’ Signs were not coming to him. Thoughts were not coming to him. Throwing his hands up in vivid frustration, Noa gave up and let a growl fall from his lips, snarling his lips for a second as it became a bit louder before tapering into a hum of sorts. Anaya blinked, hunching forward on all fours and drifted his way very slowly to sit by Noa.
‘Why… you bothered?’
‘I do not know.’ He repeated this time.
Anaya nodded, only looking at his friend from the corner of his eye. ‘Maybe… Apology?’ That was definitely an avenue that Noa had considered, in fact it was the first thing that popped into his mind. Chimps were good at apologies. Never with words, often they reached their hands out, palms up and waited for the party getting the concession to accept. It had a great acceptance rate, but Noa doubted you’d want that. Just throw an apology your way and see how it sticks! What could go wrong? You’d never talk to him again… He grunted out a denial to Anaya at that prospect and turned his shoulders away. Defensive in nature.
‘You… need tell Anaya…’ He tilted his head in hesitation, knowing what he was about to suggest would be a dangerous path, even though they were friends. “What Noa actually said.” There was confidence in his verbalization, stressing and driving home to Noa that it was a necessity to spill his guts for Anaya to properly gauge the situation and help. “Asked.. about mating.” Noa was fast to speak, hoping that maybe his voice was too weak for Anaya to understand. He underestimated it though and it came out sounding like a sour grape. “Asked if pleasured.” Noa turned his face towards Anaya, giving him a certain look that told him all he needed to know. He got his needed information and now he needed to process. And… It surely brought to light a lot of things.
A lot.
Anaya sat back on his butt, displaying a rather surprised expression. Noa didn't bother looking at him, already able to see the emotions on his friend's face just in his mind. That’s what they got for years of being around each other. Each minute move either face or body was known and read right away.
“Stupid.” He told Noa honestly which resulted in a chortle from the Eagle Clan’s leader. It was the sound of agreement. “Echo like privacy. Stupid to ask. Not like us! Keep many secrets away from Noa, from all Apes.” There was intense scrutiny in Anaya’s voice. There was a reason why the Elders told stories, wary ones, about the Echo’s. About how they were and how they disregarded things that weren’t important to them. Selfish! Anaya chuffed, wanting to pull Noa in physically and beat him into submitting, giving Anaya all the answers he needed to deduce what Noa was already enthralled in. Instead though, he urged, “Why ask?”
Noa dropped his shoulders at the mild scolding and dipped his chin towards his body. He knew what Anaya was saying was right and there was no logical excuse anymore why he asked what he did or why he felt somehow entitled to an answer from you. ‘Curious.’ He didn't have it in him to speak.
Anaya wasn’t seething perse, instead, he was statically quiet which was even worse to Noa. Anaya was a chatterbox, even if it was about nothing of consequence. This… Was out of the norm and it made Noa incredibly uncomfortable. He began shifting his weight from one side to another, swaying out of mere anticipation of being scolded again. And if Anaya got too into it, Noa could just choose to gallop away. He didn't have to take it! He was the leader. He was… He was the Eagle Clan.
“Stupid.” Anaya muttered again, picking himself up and moving. He couldn’t be next to Noa as he processed.
“Told me they only mate out of survival, hardly… the other reasons..” Anaya’s mouth popped open. Noa got further into the conversation than he led his friend to believe. Previously, the assumption was made that you didn't respond and merely began ignoring him out of offense.
Anaya exploded. “Echo not stupid, Noa is. Should have left it to die in the woods when found. Then, Noa wouldn’t be here telling Anaya stupid things!”
Noa lurched at that. Not at Anaya, but unquestionably at the implications of his words. At least, that was what Noa was going to tell himself later when the guilt set in that he drew his aggression at his best friend. The animalistic movement was taken the wrong way, made evident as Anaya billowed as Noa approached him, drawing into himself to appear smaller, more weak, more favorable. Raising his hand up, Noa was chaste to brush his fingertips against Anaya’s open palm. Apology. Simple and clean. Anaya submitted to his friend and watched as he turned, leaving the Chimp still as dumbfounded as before. Though, with a bit more insight.
●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・
You could smell dried blood but you couldn’t bring yourself to lift your heavy eyelids. Warmth was collapsing over you, wave after wave. Each one brought another one of your senses with it. There was a mild tingling in your right ear, prickling at your hearing as you tried to adjust it enough to figure out your surroundings. Last thing you remembered was stumbling… Hands pacing over a bricked wall in the dark, trying too hard to find a place where you didn't need to run for your life. Your hand pressing to your forehead, bloodied from a cut on the side near your temple, vision blurring in and out of focus. Your knees buckled from exhaustion, crashing onto grass that definitely appeared softer than it felt… It was hot for a second but then it was awfully cold, your body taking a plunge into an invisible ocean of sheer ice. Then, it all went black. Maybe, if you were lucky, you were dead. Whirling endlessly in limbo somewhere between the Earth and the Heavens, searching for the next place to go. Maybe you were asleep, dreaming up violent situations from your subconscious. After all, it did what it wanted to in your dreams; you had no control over that. Would you be aware if you were dreaming though? That idea spurred you to cross it off the list of possibilities. Hm… Or maybe you were dead, you repeated. Your eyes did not want to open. You were so warm… Another wave hit you all of a sudden and you became aware of the smothering sensation of animal fur against your back. Against your arms. Against your legs. Against your entire body. Voices without bodies were floating around you. They sounded human enough and that put you at some ease. You jumped the gun there. Thinking you had been caught by a bunch of ravenous Apes. Ha. Ha. Ha…
Jolting, you were abruptly conscious.
Not conscious enough, you decided. Drawing a deep breath into your lungs to accommodate for the lack of air you got while passed out, you found your eyes peering into green ones directly above you. Not just regular green, you tilted your head and tried desperately to ignore the throb coming from your temple. Entrancing, grappling for dominance with flecks of outstanding gold against a canvas of darkened pupils. Oh yeah, you were dead. You were definitely looking into the eyes of God, you said sarcastically in your wounded trance and shut your eyes again. “Awake! Echo is awake!” You heard that clear as day and it did nothing to help the already soundless nature of the drumming in your head. It was followed up but a few soft hoots of acknowledgement which caused the hair on your arms to stick up in defense and your eyes to fly open without reserve. Ape. Ape. Ape. You counted them with wide eyes. Three. Maybe? Maybe more? You had a hard time telling as your eyes were adjusting back to some sort of normalcy after being drenched and flooded with blood. Wherever you were was not very bright save for a fire in the corner that drifted up what appeared to be wooden planks that were tilted inwards. No natural light came in and it beckoned your internal clock to assume that it was night time. You were in a structure of some type; that was easy to figure out regardless of lighting. With Apes. Not just Apes, you squinted and raised yourself on your forearms. Chimpanzees. Three sets of eyes, similarly colored to the ones you woke up peering into. You had no idea nor interest in knowing which one was observing you so closely. If you weren’t dead before, you may as well have been at that moment as you sprinted backwards, almost face first and staggered to your feet. Automatically, you were in a defensive position, trying to ignore the feeling of twisted pain in your ankles. Racing your hands everywhere, you tried to find something to grab. Something to defend yourself with. You needed to! There was nothing in the vicinity. You couldn’t even tell where the door was and your eyes were frantic to find some sort of escape. Shoulders rising and falling quickly, you turned and looked at the Apes again. Your heart was going to jump out of your chest. Your head was pounding and you felt like if you moved your feet anywhere, you were going to tumble. What did they want?
Your mind was flying at a faster speed than you were able to process any cognitive thought. Words were blaring in your ears without anyone yelling. Your group of fellow Humans were all hunted, their chanting still wild in your head. Apes were dangerous. Apes showed no compassion. They liked the kill, they liked the satisfaction. The deeply ingrained instinct to be afraid of them because you didn't understand them, the wild weaned fear of what they could do to you. What they were planning to do! Were they… Oh god, they were going to kill you and then skin you and then eat your insides--- you scrambled again, no regard for how you must have looked as you dropped to your knees, muttering under your breath as you flew around on all fours. You needed to find a way out. There had to be a way out. They were going to attack, they were moving!
Wait.
You paused, hunching on your hands and knees, feeble attempts made to catch your breath but you still found yourself panting like a wild animal. Mouth agape, you looked at the Apes in the room with you before letting your gaze fall down to their hands. Were they… Using sign language?Your back came into crushing contact with the wooden wall behind you, earning a tiny flinch from you as your right shoulder blade radiated. You must have been bruised there, you thought. Despite the grinding pain you were in, you tried to push further back as one of them, only slightly bigger in stature compared to the other two dropped to all fours, now eye level with you, and languidly moved towards you. First a hand, followed by a foot and then repeated until they were right in front of you. Your breath caught in your throat as they leaned in, deathly close to your face that you were able to smell them in your nostrils, mixing now with that previously noted taste of dried blood. Oh, they were going to rip your face off.
“Alive.” They said to you, taking a brash step back when you moved. No shit, you wanted to say but you couldn’t find your voice. Your eyes widened at the movement of them and the sound of their voice. Not aggressive or mean, but it was pensive and quiet. Observant, and you wondered if they were even talking to you or just verbally acknowledging to the other two Apes that you were, well… Alive. Whoever this Ape was… Was courageous enough to face you, to be near you but obviously held some reservations. There was absolutely no way they were just as afraid as you were.
“Injured.” That was directed towards you, eye contact frantically being made when the smell of fresh blood became more abundantly noticed. Almost afraid to look down, you felt a small gush coming from your right calf. It slipped down the curve of your muscle, mixed with something… A paste of some sort that in itself, in your cloudy disposition, was rather fragrant if you focused on it. Something like a root, pulled and crushed from deep in the Earth. How did that… Get there? You looked at your injury, nothing more than a gash, deeper than it appeared though and it ached if you moved your foot in any awkward positions. “Wh…” Your voice came out ridiculously hoarse, hand reaching up to touch the outside of your throat. The Ape in front of you was watching it all. The inquest on your face, your fingers holding along your throat and focusing on your heart beat. How long have you been out? A day? Two? A week? Swallowing hard, you lubricated your vocal cords just enough to force out a question, “Wh-- What did you… do..t’me?” That was definitely slurred.
“Did nothing!” Another Ape finally spoke, their voice frantic and distraught.Not from nerves…. Right? You looked at them, then at the one adjacent, who was just a touch smaller than the other two, before your gaze fell on the one closest to you, wrought breathing causing your lungs to feel rather tight. Shifting, you tried to relax but found that it only brought discomfort.
“Injured.” The one in front of you said again, this time with a bit more confidence. Whether it was true or faux, you had no idea but it was difficult to sort anything through your thought process at the moment. You were barely processing the fact that there was quite literally a hole in your calf let alone that an Ape was communicating with you so… Civilly. “Found in… ruins. Dying.” Your lips parted, suddenly becoming aware that you were thirsty. The severity of the words spoken hit you like a feathered ton of bricks. Softly at first, it was initially hazed by the idea that they were capable of saving you instead of killing you. Then, it sank in and it felt like your body was tied to a chair, someone banging on your chest over and over again to just drive the point home that all your preconceptions about these Apes might have been wrong. No! It couldn’t have been wrong! You lived your entire life afraid of them, being told from your childhood to be afraid and to always run away. It was only solidified when each of those Humans you were around were hunted, killed and their bodies dragged around in a triumphant show-boat by a group of Apes on the back of their horses. Squeezing your eyes shut at that visual, often the cause of nightmares for you, you shook your head vehemently. There was no way.
“We…” They continued on, “saved.” There was a gesture towards the two Apes across the room. “Brought Echo back here… Spear head in leg,” Huh, that explained that, you bargained for some sort of reality. “Took out, stopped bleeding then…” They came to a slow stop and signed something over at the other two. You had no idea what they were saying now. Sign language was not your forte. Maybe, if you could push aside the vibration in your head, you’d be able to read them from body language but that was thrown out the window when you opened your eyes, tears forming at the edges and ultimately blurring your vision.
“Echo then wake up.”
You snapped, “Wha… What the hell is an Echo?”One of the two behind lurched ever so slightly at the apparent aggression you put into your words, but the one crouched in front of you put a hand up to tell them to stop.
It gestured at you.
You rolled your eyes. That must have been their name for Humans. Each clan called them something different, you had figured that out over the years. Instead of having individual names, the human race was deduced down to a word such as ‘Echo’ or ‘Nova’, which you had heard in passing, speckled usually in more secluded clans and only talked about in detail when you were around the fire late at night with other humans. It was lore, it was ghost stories. It was reality now. “I--- Have a name…” You whispered. “(Name).” Hm… With a tilted head to the side, a response came. “Noa.” Finally giving you a bit more clarity. He pointed at the two Apes behind him accordingly, “That Soona,” She looked at you, terrified obviously, but seemingly confident in her friend's ability to talk to you. “Anaya.” Even more terrified, and not as obviously convinced in this Noa Ape to be as outrageously courageous as he was appearing.
“Are…” You quivered in on yourself and looked at him. A string of tears hit your cheeks, hurting at your temple even more than before and profusely lit the flame that caused the beating in your head to intensify rapidly. “Are you going to kill me?” Noa looked at you, draping you in some sort of melancholic state as you realized just how… human his eyes were. How they observed every morsel of your face, taking in the details and probably thinking just how hideous you were compared to Apes. How he’d scrutinize your scent, your well being, your entire self. But, he said nothing, gaze flickering between your eyes before he moved attention to your calf again. You followed suit. It looked worse than it felt, at least you had that. If he were going to kill you, wouldn’t he have already done it? There was a fleeing moment where he felt offended at your accusation, feeling the same coming from Soona and Anaya - primarily the latter. But, he had to remind himself, you were Echo. You did not know any other ways.
“Not all Apes are that way. We do not kill… Echo’s here.” You stiffened watching as he drew himself onto his hands and feet again from his default crouching stance. That was a complete and full sentence. You tried to not bark at him with confusion, not impressed by any means… Well… No! Not impressed. You knew they could talk. It was well---You knew… they could… Your eyes blurred and you felt your head fall to the side before you urged yourself into a more aware state. It lasted only moments before you lulled into an awkward dance with unconsciousness and invested fear. Coldness rocketed right through your leg at the application of more of the root smelling paste to your wound. It didn't sting perse, instead, it felt numbing. Were you so out of it that you didn't see Noa grabbing what appeared to be a clay jar of sorts? Fingers pushing into it and then smearing its contents on your body? You so desperately wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing, putting on you but you were shot with another wave of black. You passed out. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・
Almost sickly aware of the pair of green eyes on you at all times, intricately staring at your movements down to the minute shift of your shoulders as you breathed, you did everything you could to ignore them. Your hands were busy; helping Soona untangle some twine that had gotten itself into a mess of very intricate knots. She had praised you for your help, explaining that ‘Echo hand… smaller than Ape..’ It was a simple and gentle compliment from her, you being grateful to be of some use to someone else in the Clan and not just Noa. With your hands working, your mind fell into a leisurely state as you tried so desperately to convince yourself that Noa wasn’t foolish enough to pull you away from a social situation with Soona. It would seem suspicious and ultimately, Soona would tell Anaya who would then in turn absolutely panic and tell Noa to back off, leave you be and that the only purpose you served here was to please Noa’s curiosity about the Teachings of Caesar. Thinking those things did nothing to help you feel calm. In fact, it was very much the opposite. Your mind did not stop at that though, enticing you to look up. You swept the entire village with your gaze. He had to be there somewhere, he rarely chose to drift off by himself without either of his friends, or even you on occasions but that was only when you served a purpose to him, you convinced yourself that at the moment the agreement was made that you would help Noa understand about human culture. You were still actively trying to convince yourself of that after the last two conversations that abhorrently played in your head in excruciating detail. The absolute devastation on his face when he realized that he had asked you the wrong thing and your petty response was the top of the list for your mental replays. It was your pettiness and inability to say anything positive in response to him that got you the most worked up despite your answer to him being that of pure truth. Humans didn't mate, in Noa’s words, for pleasure. They mated for survival. Setting your twine down now that it was a straight line, you looked over your shoulder once more before glancing down to pick up another knotted piece to work on. Well… What were you supposed to tell him? Looking at it now in a less offended state, you should have just told him that you didn't want to answer. There were a few times in the past that Noa attempted to push a question on you, soon coming to embrace acceptance that you weren’t willing to give him any response and he’d drop it. The two of you never fought about it, never went days upon days without talking or seeing each about them. Were you even fighting? Tilting your head, you shuffled on the ground and spread your legs out instead of sitting cross-legged like you had been for at least the last half hour. Then you began bargaining. He had asked you before if you had mated. If you had someone before you found your way to the Eagle Clan. You never answered him, even then. It was left alone for a long time, Noa not wanting to pry into obviously human privacy. So he was consciously aware of the status of the question he begged you to answer only a few days ago. You fixated on the way he had signed that word. Pleasure. It was a slow signing, his two hands in front of his chest with a perpendicular circular motion. It was a flurry of intensity. The question. Your chaste answer. Noa falling silent next to you, no doubt self-reflecting at the idiocy of the question. And then… Oh… You had the absolute torture of being silent for the rest of the hunting trip. Noa ignored you, you could sense the coldness coming off of him in waves due to his inner thoughts taking over. You wanted nothing more than to ask him when he inquired about pleasure. How he even knew that it was a pleasurable experience for a human. Was it for Apes? Chimpanzees? You had no idea, choosing to linger in your ignorance and figure that it was not an element to their mating standards.
Huffing, you sat your twine back down and told Soona in a soft tone of voice as to not alarm her, “I need to go pee.” She let you go with silence, figuring your rather fast pace was due to really needing to relieve yourself.
A quick excuse to get you on your legs, pacing towards the right and through the entire embankment of the village to the very edge. Kicking a rock under your foot as you approached the small creek, the very sight of the first incident with Noa, you felt like doing nothing more than grabbing your hair and screaming to the high heavens. What was wrong with you!? Now you were the foolish one, asking questions that shouldn’t need to be asked, that didn't need an answer because what fruit would come from knowing if Apes mated at all for pleasure?
Coming around the small creek embankment, your fast feet came to an almost stumbling stop. Your mind didn't process as quickly as you halted harder than anticipated and almost felt yourself go face first into the shallow water in front of you from the sheer momentum you had. A set of broad shoulders, lined delicately with thinning fur in preparation for the summer, were facing you. Sun peeked across the west as it began its gentle descent into night, flushing the sky now with a light hue of pink and orange. Ah yes… That oh so familiar body in front of you, hand dipped in water in quite solace was none other than the Chimp you were ignored by for days. Well, not just ignored by. You did your fair share of skipping around the stone to not run into him.
Tightly wrapping your fingers into fists at your side, you contemplated going back. It appeared he hadn’t heard you, hadn’t sensed you coming or at the very least, you weren’t worth turning around or acknowledging. Your heart sank at that thought. You were just another tool he used to get his way into fixing a problem that wasn’t his to fix. He… Looked so small… You brought your bottom lip in and chewed it out of deliberation, eyes scaping up his back, broad by nature, but from his posture now, it was brought in on itself and he looked reminiscent of a little kid who had just gotten into big trouble. Maybe, you muttered inside of your own head and trailed your way towards him. You were still contemplating if you wanted to talk to him, but the very least you could do was to appear next to him and give the chance.
‘Know you are there.’ There went your element of surprise as Noa brought his hand back in and rested it against his chest in a coiled position. He wasn’t just crouching, he was holding himself.
“I---” You stumbled backwards, feet shifting to move your weight but your mind was telling you not to run. To confront. You didn't want to! You wanted to leave it alone, you didn't want to… To… Have to see his face. “I’m sorry, I didn't know you’d be up here, I just needed to---”
“Think.”
Swallowing softly, you planted yourself behind him, only a few feet and looked at the water that was so enviously caressing his hand. Looking down at your own palm, you felt it tingle with want… You wanted to be that water and freely float yourself against him in some bid to calm, ease… Love… “Yeah…” That was spit from your mouth so softly, almost afraid that Noa wouldn’t be able to hear. He didn't turn to face you so you figured that he did in fact hear and was either waiting for silence to fall over the two of you again or for you to say something else. He waited.
●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・ Tag List: @ohwaitimthewriter @saturnnie-03 @hera-annwn @filliandkili @hadesbabygurl @supergoat12 @callsignwindow @moonchild1433 @kaenalsha @whamsworld @yummyfant @unsteady-bitch @twinspineout
( Sorry if tumblr is a jerk and doesn't tag properly. It does that sometimes I've noticed. )
#kingdom of the planet of the apes#noa#planet of the apes#noa x reader#noa x human reader#planet of the apes x reader#proximus caesar#soona#anaya#fanfiction#fanfic#emmy writes#owen teague
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Man of Worship (P.1) | Zagreus x M!Reader
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
w/c: 2.3k #NSFW themes, demigod reader, eventual polyamory, traumatic past, healing from trauma, mentions of dub-con, mentions of suicide, hurt/comfort, boys being boys, toxic parents, olympic gods doing typical olympic god bs
Note: SO this is basically a rework of Rhubarb, even though I still want to pursue the rest of Rhubarb with that particular reader character, HOWEVER I generally make two or three versions of the same story while I'm brainstorming, and I ended up digging into more Greek mythos while looking for inspo and BOOM.
ANYWAY I didn't tag for this since it's a new fandom I'm writing for, but if you'd like to be tagged, pls feel free to leave a comment!! I'll update my tag form thing in a moment too :D I hope this is a fun read!!
--
1. A Gardener?
He noticed first the flutter of feathered wings. It was an odd thing to hear in the underworld, and even odder still to hear it come from the outer gardens–the place poor, pitiful Zagreus was barred from.
Father won't tell me anything of this. And that was true--Hades was anything but straightforward and honest with his son. So, to the real parent of the house was where the prince went.
“Erm, Nyx?” Zagreus asked, shooting glances back at the iron gates as he met his mother-figure. “I've got a question for you, if you don't mind.”
“I do not mind. I will do my best to answer, my child.” She watched him with eased attention, then followed his gaze to the forbidden outdoors. “Is something the matter?”
“No–well, maybe? Not sure, but. Well.” Zagreus rubbed the back of his neck. “Just–are there birds out in the garden?”
Nyx blinked. “Birds?”
“Yes. I keep hearing something fluttering around every now and then, and I swear I've seen something moving around in the garden. You know, the one I'm not allowed to enter?”
“Ah.” The goddess nodded. “Of course. There is a new servant of the house, one who was chosen to tend to the gardens.”
“Really.” Zagreus planted his hands on his hips and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, gaze returning to the forbidden area. “Well, that's the first I've heard of it.”
“He does not linger long; he arrives with the sun, and leaves only when the work is done,” Nyx explained. “He is a diligent helper of the House. Your father is quite pleased, I've noticed.”
“Well, I've never thought that Father could be pleased in any regards.” Zagreus’ mismatched gaze flickered back to Nyx. “But why now? The garden's never needed a tender before.”
“A flower wilted,” Nyx sighed, looking aside. “And your father has grown concerned.”
“Hah. Concerned for the plants? Good to know he can still give a damn about something,” Zagreus bit, sending a scalding glare to the throne. “Guess that's why he locked it up, kept it from me.”
Night smiled, sympathetic. “You do have a reputation.”
“One that I must uphold,” he agreed, heart light and spirit lifted higher. “Thank you, Nyx. I should get back to ransacking my father's domain.”
Nyx nodded sagely and reached a hand up, fixing the tilt of Zagreus’ burning laurel. “I would hope for nothing less, my child.”
–
“You play music?”
Your voice startled Zagreus, sending a Zeus-like jolt through him and holding him in place with a fit of numbing static. Thankfully, however, twas not the true bite of the sky king, and Zagreus had the luxury to back out of his room a few paces.
“You heard?” He asked, face somehow both paling and burning in tandem.
You, whilst leaning against the iron gate, nodded. “‘N if I did?”
“Oh.” Zagreus rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “That's unfortunate. Sorry for the bother.”
“Don't misunderstand me, god.” Your spectral eyes bore into him with easy confidence. Zagreus quite liked that look. “You played much like a dying pigeon at first, I'll admit, but you've improved.”
Zagreus laughed and approached you. Your dry informality pricked him with intrigue. “Well, now I know you're lying.”
“Lies are useless for those who need the truth.” Your words came so bold, the prince had no choice but to believe you. “I can hear it. The notes–they come easier to you. Sweeter, even. Like figs ripe on the tree.”
“Figs?” Zagreus tilted his head much like Cerberus might. “Huh. Can't say I've had one of those.”
“Really? Well, then I shall see to it that you wonder no longer, god.” You leaned away, nearly out of sight of the iron-barred gateway, and jostled through the leaves of a bush or tree of sorts before the sharp snap of something announced your return.
You stuck your arm through a gap in the fence, one where your glowing skin was threatened by a cascade of decorative thorns, but you didn't much care. That care, instead, found itself funneled into the deliverance of a ripe fig to the prince of the underworld, it seemed.
Zagreus stared for a moment. He wasn't used to receiving gifts unless he bestowed one upon another, first. To him, this almost felt like–could it be--
“If you don't take it in the next three seconds, I'm going to eat it myself and not hand you another,” you groused.
“Hah.” He snatched the fruit from your hand. “You wouldn't dare.”
“I've dared much worse, god, believe me.” You withdrew your hand and drummed your palms against the iron. “Well, enjoy. And be sure to clean your hands before touching that lyre again.” You looked him over, face placid as it'd been for his entire short history knowing you–but your eyes, the strange things, they hinted at hidden curiosities. “I'll be listening.”
–
“Say, Meg, do you know much about the new House attendant?” Zagreus asked, flourishing his Stygian blade as he walked towards the Fury, prepared to fight after a quick chat.
Megaera's eyes narrowed. “You're talking about the flirt.”
“The flirt?” Zagreus rested his sword down, digging its diamond tip into the cracked ground. “Is that really what he's known for? Flirting? He doesn't seem like the type.”
A heavy sigh left Meg. “Ask Than. He might be more willing to endure your rambling and answer questions. I am not.”
“You know, I think we really need to work on your patience.” Still, he flicked up his blade of the underworld, and lunged first.
–
As the Fates would have it, Thanatos was already at the House. Even more fateful, still, was where he stood–not by the river Styx, no, but by the garden’s gate for a change. Death's presence on that side of the house seemed…odd, despite his infrequent visits to the lounge. Never before did he show interest in a coworker, neither, not unless it was his twin who needed some firm and stringent guidance.
“Admiring the flowers?” Zagreus asked, and Death flinched.
“No, I–” He sighed, and spared a look over his shoulder. “What do you want, Zagreus?”
The shorter one shrugged, and stood beside his age-old friend. “Came to find you. Is that so odd?”
“If you're going to shove more nectar in my hands, then you can forget it.” Thanatos looked away again and scowled beyond iron bars. “You've made your bed.”
Zagreus stifled a sigh, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I–well–in all honesty, I had a question, one that I'd hoped you could answer.”
“Then ask.”
“Right to the point then.” Zagreus cleared his throat and shuffled closer to Death. “Who exactly is the new gardener? Meg said you might know.”
Thanatos graced him with a wide-eyed stare. “I thought you'd know by now.”
Zagreus shrugged. “I wouldn't be asking if I knew.”
“He is–” Death paused, his jaw tightening, tendons threatening to snap. “Why do you want to know?”
Zagreus convinced himself not to pry. “We haven't had a new servant of the House in, well, eternities. Father wouldn't allow just anyone in here.”
“Sure, but don't you think you should ask him yourself?”
“It's hard to catch him. He's quite flighty, as Fate would have it. Must be the wings.”
“Must be.” Zagreus swore he heard the inkling of a smile on those words. “Well, I don't think it's fair for me to spoil the introduction. But I will say this–he was a servant of the House in life, and now continues on in death.”
“Really?” Zagreus couldn't quite wrap his head around it. How could someone be devoted to the house before even arriving?
“Yes. He made my job easier, in some regards. Assisted, at the very least,” Death said.
“Huh.” Zagreus crossed his arms and scuffed his sole against time-worn stone. “Guess that explains that. I don't suppose you'd be willing to go into elaborate detail regarding what exactly our avian gardener did in life to earn yours and Father's favour? Or, even just his name?”
“No.” A luminous wash of turquoise licked off Death's shoulders, his scythe. “Ask him yourself. I've work to do.”
And with the toll of a bell, he was gone.
–
It took a while to catch you again. Apparently, you kept to a strict, self-imposed schedule that Zagreus couldn't even begin to understand despite its simplicity. Nyx told him you arrived come morning, at the very least. That may have been helpful, if Zagreus could tell the damn time in the underworld.
So, he resorted to guessing; if he could not find you through the convenience of your daily routine, he'd swing by whenever he died. He was bound to run into you at some point.
And he did. It was when he wandered to the lounge, eager to deliver a wealth of fish to the head chef, that he caught the ghostly sound of feathers against leaves.
Zagreus backed out of the lounge in time to see your curious glance. A rush pulsed through him–finally, finally, he'd get his chance to interrogate you.
“Hey!” He called.
“Hey,” You called back.
“Just--don’t go anywhere. I need to hand over some river denizens and then I need to speak with you,” Zagreus rambled off as quickly as he could.
Your brows furrowed, but you offered a shallow nod. “I'll wait up.”
With that, Zagreus sped by the gossiping Meg and Dusa and a gaggle of other patrons to all but throw his catch to the head chef. It was a good haul today. Hopefully that meant–ah ha.
Zagreus rolled the bottle of nectar over in his hands. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he sang, and ran off, tucking the gift away before approaching the iron bars.
You were toiling away, a little farther in the garden than before, but not too far to escape the prince's presence. It gave him a chance to take a good look at you: simple black chiton on a well-muscled frame, wings full of bronze feathers, wild hair tied back into the smallest of ponytails. You looked quite ordinary, save for the wings.
But your eyes had been strange: they glowed. Not with the morose cold of Ixion, but with the exact opposite. Warm. Bronze. Sunlit, maybe. He'd never known sunlight, but you must have kept a drop of it in your very soul.
“So?” You said as you meandered back to him. You walked with unbothered confidence, much different to Zagreus’ sprightly impatience. “What important matters must we discuss?”
“Your name, first of all,” the prince requested. “I am Zagreus, son of Hades and--"
“Prince of the underworld,” you added. “Well, I figured you were him. Good to have a proper introduction, I suppose.” You took a breath. “As for me, you'll call me (Name).”
Zagreus repeated the name. It held a fullness in his mouth, something sweet and foreign, too much like the fig you'd offered him not too long ago. Maybe you were the minor god of figs (wouldn't that be something?).
“Pleased to meet you, then. I trust the garden will be well-kept in your capable hands. And wings,” Zag said. “Oh! And, ah, here--a token of thanks for your hard work.”
Your brows raised and Zagreus’ chest filled with hope; for once, your blank mask changed, and you looked less like a gorgon-born statue and more like a human. Somehow, it gave him relief.
But your expression crumpled into furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. “Nectar?” You wondered aloud.
Zagreus nodded and slipped the bottle best he could through the gap. “Yes, I…I hope you will take it, if it pleases you.”
You examined the bottle as it slipped into your hand and leaned a shoulder up against the gate. “Odd. Why is it in the underworld?”
The tension left Zagreus’ muscles as you accepted the gift. “Not a clue. Maybe Olympus ferries some down here from time to time to try and liven things up.”
“Hah.” The mock laughter almost sounded genuine. “Dionysus would, from what I've heard of him.” You held the bottle up, watching the light reflect shards of gold and ghostly greens. “He's not so bad, that god of wine.”
“You've met him?” Zagreus wondered.
“No,” you admitted. Your light-filled eyes found him again. “But I've met gods, when I once lived. No man should have to meet them. They bring misfortune, even the supposed good ones.”
The prince took a sure step forward, and your eyes steeled. “Well, you're right about Dionysus,” he assured instead of scorned. “He's good. I'm sure he's had his moments, still. But I get on with him well.” I'm sure you would, too, he decided against saying; the more he took in your features, the more he realized the god's work carved into you, painting you unnatural colours and robbing you of something only humans could have. He didn't think you'd much enjoy being forced into a hypothetical with them.
“Then I shall take your word for it,” you said. “And I will pretend this bottle comes from Dionysus, to make it more palatable.”
“Well, whatever pleases you.” Zagreus smiled and leaned against the wall by the gate. “But, if I may ask, which gods have you–”
“Boy,” Hades’ voice thundered, echoing down the hall. “Do not disturb the rest of the House and distract them from their duties. Unlike you, they do not wish to disappoint.”
Zagreus clicked his tongue and looked over his shoulder. “Yes, of course, Father. I'll get right to ignoring every blasted person in this damn House. Perhaps I'll consider a life of solitude while I'm at it!”
“Do not test me further, boy.”
Zagreus rolled his eyes, but gave in, finding your (gentler?) eyes once again. “Well. I'd more than happily argue with my father all day–or night–about this, but I wouldn't want you to bear the punishment.”
You nodded a little and glanced from the prince back down to the bottle. “I appreciate this, princeling.”
“It's nothing, really.” Though Zagreus did indeed beam with delight. “Well, then I'll leave you to your work.”
“Be sure to come back. I need to return the favour,” you said as you turned. “Until then, princeling.”
#cw: death#cw: suicide#cw: dubcon#male reader insert#male reader#zagreus x reader#zag x reader#zagreus hades x reader#zagreus hades game x you#hades game reader insert#hades game x reader#zagreus x male reader#hades game male reader insert
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professor || carol danvers
‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾ . ┊ You're Carol's designated note taker, and usually the one teaching her a few things. What happens when you give her the wrong set of notes?
➺ warnings: dirty talk, spanking, edging, violent use of straps, carol danvers tops (but I fully believe she's a switch now), umm... general unholiness, bratting, etc.
✧ a/n: surprise... I'm back... more content coming soon... I promise I've got a val/carol/r fic coming soon, but this popped into my head and I couldn't resist... JOCK COLLEGE CAROL, OK? JOCK RUGBY COLLEGE CAROL.
↬ like this work? let me know! comments help encourage writers to write more and let them know that you liked what they wrote :)
★ requests are open–I write for a number of fandoms! just ask :)
☆ comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated ☆
“Can any of you attempt to discern meaning from this week’s assigned reading? Why might I have selected this particular work for you all?” asks Professor Valkyrie, starting class for the day. Your hand immediately raises, and she nods in your direction.
“Well, was not Beckett’s entire point to find meaning in the absence of conventional meaning?”
Professor Valkyrie, nods.
‘Interesting thought,” she says. “Care to elaborate?”
“Well,” you begin. “Beckett created a landscape for us that is so alien and foreign, and unlike what we know. The play does not include any symbolic elements, and it does not really go anywhere. You might try to make meaning out of the carrot that Didi and Gogo share, or the leaves appearing on the tree, but they literally mean nothing. At the end of the play--we, as well as Vladimir and Estragon, are all still waiting for Godot. So, in a sense, there is no meaning, but perhaps there is meaning in the fact that there is no intended meaning.”
“Good,” replies Professor Valkyrie. “As always, a carefully articulated and thoroughly crafted response. Excellent work as usual.”
You smile politely, and fall back into your seat as Professor Valkyrie continues to lecture about Samuel Beckett and the wonderful nature and reality of Waiting for Godot.
Meanwhile, you’ve jotted at the top of your notes, in big bold letters ‘I hate this play!’
After all, the ability to just to understand and converse about a work of literature does not mean that one has to enjoy it.
After class, you’re stopped, as usual, by the one and only Carol Danvers. Resident jock, captain of the division one team, aspiring pilot, rumored sex god extrodinare, Carol Danvers. She’s quite the legend around campus, but not exactly for her work ethic as it pertains to academic pursuits, which are... lacking, to put it politely.
“Do you have my notes for me,” she asks, holding her hand out. “I need to at least act like I’m going to study tonight, right?”
You roll your eyes. “Carol, why do you ask for my notes if you never use them? You do realize that mere possession of the notes will not translate into you understanding the material, yes? You have to actually read them in order for the information to enter your head.”
Your reply is snarky, short and snappy, but you’re fed up with Carol at this point. She asks you for notes in all the classes you share together (which, granted, is not many,) but never seems to read them or take any of her classes very seriously. Carol narrows her eyes at the response.
“I’ll just sleep on them? Os--”
You cut her off, finishing her sentence.
“--mosis does not apply, Carol. You know that. You cannot absorb the material through the pores of your skin. Read the notes, and actually try for once, or stop bothering me. I could be taking notes for myself, rather than focusing on summarizing all of the lectures so that you can stuff them into your bag, never to see the light of day again. Don’t ask me for notes again unless you’re ready to be serious.”
With that, you hastily pull out a few papers from your bag, not bothering to double check if they were the correct ones or not. You shove the papers into Carol’s and turn away sharply, not bothering to look back. Granted, you were headed in the completely wrong direction, but you weren’t about to give Carol the satisfaction of seeing your face again.
Of course, Carol knows that you hardly need notes for your own purposes. Summarizing the lectures for her provides you with the information you need to keep your own mind sharp, with years of literary study and reading filling in the blanks to broader context for you. But still, you love to hassle her. Carol does feel guilty occasionally, knowing how much work you put into the notes you take for her. They’re always organized, and you write important little tidbits down in the margins. She always glances at them, but can never bring herself to actually study the notes.
Tonight is different. Carol is inspired, reenergized by your scathing talk. She sits down at her desk, and finally pulls out the notes you gave her. She reads the first line, and laughs to herself.
These definitely weren’t the notes she meant to give me, she thinks to herself.
_______________________________________________________________________
You’re startled out of your evening study session by a loud ding from your phone. Normally, you wouldn’t check your phone in the middle of studying, but you’re intrigued.
Your jaw drops slightly when you notice that the text is from Carol.
8:57 hey. I’ve got a question about the notes
You’re shocked. Carol actually... read the notes?
9:00 Shoot for it. How can I help?
9:01 Well. The notes weren’t really on Waiting for Godot
9:04 Oh. Did I give you a repeat copy of last weeks’?
9:05 Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that they’re standard academic notes
You roll your eyes at her comment, typing out a harsh response before deleting it and sending a far more cordial reply.
9:06 Oh?
9:07 Well, for starters, I don’t think that Waiting for Godot has anything to do with sex.
Attached to her text is a picture of your recent exploration of the things that turned you on, or as you aptly named it “An empirical study of the things that make me wet.”
You’d never meant for anyone to see it, ever. It was purely a list of the things that you desperately wanted to try, things you enjoyed watching and reading, various things that interested you.
You’d written the list mostly as a joke, as a way to get the ideas out of your head. You wondered how it even found your way into your backpack, and you’re ready to curl up into a ball and cry when Carol texts you again.
9:13 I could help you, you know
9:14 I have a few things that I could teach you
9:15 What do you say we make a deal?
You swallow thickly, intrigued.
9:17 What sort of deal?
9:19 You teach me literature.
9:21 I’ll fulfill your deepest fantasies. (And take you out on a date ;) )
You blink slowly, unable to process the words appearing on your screen. A date? Lessons in sex? It all seems to be far too much to handle, and you’re not sure if Carol is serious. The prospect is alluring, however, and you can’t help but admit that you’ve had the tiniest (largest) of crushes on Carol ever since you saw her in that signature leather jacket of hers, kicking her legs up against the desk in front of her, even if your feelings were against your better judgment. You knew she was aware of this fact, and the way you were always angry around him for some odd reason.
9:24 If this is a joke, it isn’t funny, Carol.
9:30 I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow. Be ready. We’re getting pasta.
__________________________________________________________________________
“So. You want to be a pilot, but now you’re here playing rugby and studying literature?”
Carol shrugs.
“My best friend Maria and I were supposed to enlist together, but some shit happened and he needed me to stick around. I’ve always been good at rugby even though my dad hated that I played sports, and so I stuck around here. Got a full scholarship for rugby, and put the dream of flying aside. The academy will always be there. It’s not what I wanted, but it’s what Maria needed. I couldn’t just leave her when she needed me most.”
You smile softly at Carol, shocked by her sudden display of emotion. She’s clearly conflicted, and her eyes drift up to the sky, staring wistfully at the dimming horizon.
“I think that’s very brave of you, Carol. You’re a really good friend,” you say, reaching out to place a hand atop hers in a sudden burst of confidence. The evening had been oddly pleasant, and conversation flowed between the two of you. Granted, Carol was still somewhat of an egotistical jerk, but she was obviously emotionally conflicted, and she had sacrificed her biggest dream to help her closest friend when she needed it most.
Carol looks down at your hand, tensing up for a second before flipping her palm to meet yours and giving your hand a quick squeeze.
“I’m alright, ok? I don’t want you worrying about me.”
You nod. Carol smiles, and moves to stand up.
“What do you say we get out of here, and head back to my place? Maybe watch a movie?”
You smile, nodding at Carol. “I’d like that a lot,” you whisper. “I’d like that.”
Carol holds her hand out to you, helping you up out of your chair. You move to pull your hand out of hers, assuming she meant to just assist you up, but she holds on firmly as the two of you walk back to her vintage red Mustang.
The drive back to her apartment is filled with throwbacks from the 90s, widows open and hair wild. You’re both singing the words of the songs obnoxiously, relishing in the sweet freedom of the open night.
When you finally reach her apartment, your eyes are bright and your hair is messy. You look over at Carol, messy hair strewn about. You begin to laugh uncontrollably, with Carol joining shortly after upon seeing your own windblown look.
When the laughter finally succeeds, you look over at Carol to find her gazing at you intently. You laugh apprehensively, but Carol’s gaze does not falter.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful,” she asks.
You nod your head slowly. “Not really, no.”
“But you had a boyfriend?”
You nod. “It wasn’t really the best of situations. I’ve since come to many realizations about myself since then.”
Carol smiles. “Well, then I guess I’ll just have to tell you as many times as I possibly can to make up for the lack of times you’ve been told that.”
“Carol, I don’t even know how to respond to that,” you sputter out.
“So don’t.”
Carol leans in over the middle of the car, hesitantly pressing her lips against yours in a tender kiss. You’re surprised at first, but you lean into the kiss, melting against her mouth. Your hands tangle in her already messy hair, and you smile against her lips. The kiss intensifies as your hands begin to roam down Carol’s back, fingers itching to explore. She pulls her hands off of you, smiling softly.
“Let’s head inside, Princess. We can have a lot more fun in my bedroom than we ever will out here.”
You nod your head, eagerly anticipating the next steps.
When you reach her apartment, he leads you past the kitchen, flipping on various light switches as she heads through the living room, finally reaching her bedroom. It’s surprisingly neat, with framed photos of her and a woman that you guessed was her friend Maria. There’s a small pin shaped like a sort of star resting atop her desk, with a framed photo of an adorable orange kitten. Her bed is neatly made, and the room is incredibly put together.
“You like it, huh?”
You jump, startled by Carol’s voice.
“Yeah. Um, it’s very nice,” you reply. “Super neat.”
Carol laughs.
“Yeah, for all my disorganization at school, I do like to keep my apartment pretty tidy.”
Carol walks over to her desk and picks up your list.
“I think this belongs to you, my darling. We don’t have to do anything with it, or even speak of it again should you so wish that to be the case.”
You bite your lip, considering your options.
“Were you really serious, Carol?”
Your heart is beating fast, and your palms are beginning to grow clammy.
She laughs.
“Of course I was serious, Princess. Why would I offer if I wasn’t?”
You look down, mumbling your answer out.
“I didn’t really think someone like you would ever be interested in someone like me, honestly.”
Carol laughs, walking over to you. She gently tilts your chin up, meeting your eyes.
“Hey. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, and you drive me up a wall when you’re yelling at me to fucking finally read your notes, as you so kindly put it in your own words. Of course I would be interested in a girl like you. You’re incredible.”
She kisses you softly, slipping hers hands underneath your sweater. Breaking away for a second, she whispers to stop her if anything is too much. Green for go, she says. Red for stop.
Her hands roam up your body, making their way up to your neck. She gently squeezes at the column of your throat, whispering in your ear.
“I noticed you had this on your list, Princess. I did read your notes this time, and I did study up. I know all the things that could make you tick. And yet, I still want to hear you tell me what you want. You want me to choke you? Squeeze your throat till you’re begging me to stop?”
“Yes, please,” you moan out.
“Then use your words, Princess. Mmm... and what else should we do today? What other things from your little list do you want to try? I know you don’t want to start off simple... You even said so yourself. Tell me with your words, Princess. Tell me what you want.”
You gasp, head tipping back as Carol’s hands resume their exploration of your body.
“Cat got your tongue, Princess? Normally you’re so vocal during class... Why change now?”
You moan again, unable to speak properly as Carol’s fingers find your nipples, gently pinching. He pinches harder when you are unable to answer her question.
Moving hers hand to cup your jaw, he harshly tilts your face to look at him.
“Answer me, Princess. I’m growing impatient and I don’t have all day. Normally you’re so quick to answer. What a shame.”
“Put me in my place, please,” you gasp out, voice breaking. “I want you to edge me and spank me and punish me and tell me what a naughty little girl I’ve been, touching myself to the thought of you. I want to eat you out while I’m forced to touch myself, unable to cum without your permission. I want you to choke me as you pound me into the mattress with your cock, reminding me of my place. I want to be your good little girl, moaning only your name as you show me who I belong to.”
Carol smirks.
“I’ll be honest—I always knew you had a thing for me. You weren’t exactly discreet. The secret is, I had a thing for you too. I wasn’t expecting you to write about me in your notes, though. And I definitely wasn’t expecting you to write something like that ever. Our little teacher’s pet, our good little girl, the smartest girl in class—and such filthy thoughts! Didn’t take me long to figure out who the mysterious blonde figure was. You wrote some pretty explicit stuff in there, Princess. You’re such a filthy little whore... So many dirty thoughts! Imagine if those notes had fallen into the wrong hands...”
Carol’s hands dip to the edge of your sweater, swiftly pulling it off of your body. She cocks an eyebrow at you upon seeing the lacy navy blue bodysuit underneath that you’d specifically selected for tonight.
“Did you wear this just for me?”
You nod.
“Good girl. I like the way you think. Now, take off those pants for me. While you’re at it, get rid of that lacey little thing. It’s pretty, but you’re prettier.”
You obey her quickly, shedding every stitch of clothing from your body. You’re trembling with excitement and anticipation, and you’re nervous as Carol’s eyes rake up and down your body.
“Stunning,” she says, never taking her eyes off of your body. “You’re absolutely perfect. I can’t wait to teach you how to be a good little slut for me... you’re such a good learner. Wonder if that translates in the bedroom?”
You groan, rolling your eyes. “Why don’t you shut up and find out already?”
Carol laughs condescendingly.
“You sure you want to mouth off like that, Princess?”
You nod. “You seem to be all talk right now, and no action.”
Carol growls. “We can change that. I don’t tolerate brats around here. Brats get punished. If you’re a good girl, you get rewarded. Which is it going to be tonight, Princess. I need an answer.”
You roll your eyes without even thinking. “Just fuck me already, Carol.”
Carol tangles her hand in your hair, pulling your head back. “I told you that brats get punished. It looks like you've selected the brat role tonight. Get on your fucking hands and knees. I’m not going to ask you a second time.”
You quickly obey, scrambling onto your hands and knees. You wiggle your ass slightly, but Carol firmly holds it in place.
“Stop. Now, since this is your first time, I’m going to take it easy on you. We are only going to do ten, but mark my words, if you pull this sort of bratting on me again, I can and will increase that number. Now, I want you to count.”
The first strike comes faster than you were expecting, but it does not hurt as much as you thought it would.
“One,” you gasp out.
Carol strikes again, harder this time.
“Two,” you gasp out again.
He continues, hitting a bit harder each time, and your ass is red by the finish.
“Good girl,” she whispers in the shell of your ear. “You took your first punishment so well for me—it is almost like you were made to do this...”
She ghosts her fingers lightly over your neck, drifting down to your collarbone before moving her hands to gently massage the soft tissue of your breasts.
With a gentle slap to your aching ass, she gives you a new set of instructions.
“Now. For our next lesson, you’re going to suck me off. The better you do, the less edges I’ll give you tonight. I hope you’ve been studying, Princess. Either that, or you just better wish that this comes naturally for you.”
Carol swiftly pulls her pants and boxers down and throws her shirt to the side, revealing her toned abs and muscled back. You can see her muscles ripple as she stretches her arms above her head to take her shirt off. Your jaw goes slightly slack at the sight of her perfect nude figure.
“Close your mouth, Princess. You’ll catch flies.”
You blush. “Sorry, Carol. You’re just so beautiful.”
Carol winks. “I can tell, Princess. Your eyes haven’t left my torso.”
You giggle, but quickly stop when Carol moves directly in front of you.
“Test time, Princess. Hope you’ve studied. But, if you haven’t, I’ll allow for retakes. Think of this one as a pretext, if you will. How much do I need to teach you when it comes to this particular subject?”
You moan at her words, mouth salivating. You’re desperate to touch her, to run your tongue over her strap. Carol leans down to press a quick kiss upon your lips, immediately guiding your face to her strap after. You’re unsure of what to do at first, the feeling foreign upon your tongue. Eventually, you begin to find your rhythm, head bobbing as you introduce a hand to match your rhythm. You continue your tiny kitten licks, timing them with the thrust of your fingers. Carol is silent for the most part, but every so often she breaks her stoic silence with a loud moan or gasp when you hit a particularly sensitive spot against her body. You grind against the pillow that Carol has placed between your legs, annoyed with the lack of friction you got, but thankful to have anything at all. Your tongue continues its way along Carol’s strap, body quivering with pleasure.
It isn’t long before she’s moaning continuously.
After all, you have always been a very quick learner.
Carol pulls away, and you whimper at the loss of contact. She messily kisses you, groaning at the taste of herself on your tongue.
“For your first time, that was surprisingly good.”
You beam in satisfaction.
“However, I’m still going to edge you at least five times.”
You whimper.
“But Carol—“
“No buts, pretty girl. It’s for your own pleasure, alright? It’s good to practice delayed gratification. Now, get over there on the back of the bed for me. Spread those legs as wide as you can. I want that dripping cunt of yours on display.”
You move off of your pillow, following her instructions. Carol walks over to you, hovering over you on the bed as she cages your body with her arms.
“I want to hear every moan you make,” she growls. “Don’t hold back on me, Princess.”
You nod.
“Yes, Carol.”
Carol smiles and strokes a single finger through your dripping folds. You shudder. The feeling of her soft fingertips against your throbbing core is heavenly, and you’re unable to hide from the breathless moan that escapes your mouth.
Carol continues to slide her fingers through the folds of your cunt, relishing in the puffy texture as she explores. Her fingers trace small circles here and there, dipping into your soaking hole when she feels like doing so, pinching your clit, edging you into oblivion.
You ask her to cum numerous times, but she always pulls away. Finally, she pulls away for the last time.
“You can cum this time, Princess. But I want to cum on my cock for me like a good little slut, alright? I want you to scream my name for me. Let the whole world know you’re mine now.”
You nod, moaning at her filthy words. She carefully lines up with you and thrusts in quickly, giving you a chance to adjust to the size and foreign feeling of the cock inside of you.
When you nod at her, she begins to thrust her hips at an ungodly pace, hitting that perfect spot inside of you that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. She moves one hand to your clit, rubbing tight little circles over the throbbing organ, and her other hand moves to your throat, lightly pressing down. She’s pushing you into the mattress, firmly grinning the column of your neck as her hips thrust faster and faster.
“You like it when I choke you? When your brain starts to go a little bit foggy and you can’t tell if it’s from the sex or lack of air? You like it when I tell you what a good little slut you are, taking my cock like such a good little Princess, showing how well you learn and how well you take instruction?”
“Yes,” you manage to gasp out in between moans. “Please, fuck me harder.”
Although it seemed humanly impossible, Carol managed to fuck you harder. The relentless snap of her hips grew faster, thrusts hitting further and further inside of you each time. The hand rubbing your clit runs faster, harder, and just before you’re about to rip over the edge, Carol whispers in your ear.
“Cum for me, Princess. Cum like the good little girl you are.”
You scream out in ecstasy as you tip over the edge, collapsing against the mattress. Carol pulls out, falling into bed next to you, wrapping her arms around you as she presses kisses to your neck and collarbone, drifting up to your forehead.
“You did so well, Princess. You’re such a good learner. Looks like you’re just as good in here as you are in a classroom.”
You smile.
“I try my best. Honestly, that’s all I can ever do.”
Carol smiles.
“A good attitude to have. Now, let’s go get you cleaned up.”
A few snacks, some water, and one blissful shower later, you’re dressed in Carol’s old sweatpants and sweatshirt as you climb into bed beside him. She’d invited you to stay the night, and you hadn’t been able to resist. Carol flips the lights off, pressing a delicate, featherlight kiss to your forehead.
As you lay in bed however, you remember an important fact.
“I still have to teach you all of literature,” you mumble.
Carol laughs softly.
“And I have many things to teach you still, darling. But for now, sleep.”
You smile, closing your eyes as you feel Carol’s grip on you grow stronger.
Literature could wait until tomorrow.
#carol danvers smut#carol danvers#carol danvers x reader#captain marvel x reader#captain marvel smut#god i cannot believe i am back here#holy hell#help lmaooooo
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Genuine question: what's the point of writing fanfic? As in, what's the purpose? No one in the fandom I'm in comments on fics and I even got told off by one person for doing so, as it "encourages bad writers and makes them think they're good". So it seems that it's a lot like book writing, where people work hard and are creative, but instead of getting paid and getting comments on the work, you just sit there silently hoping someone will press the kudos button and make a number go up. I feel like that time and work could be better spent on making something you might get some kind of profit off of. Don't get me wrong, I love doodling fanart, but I don't post it, as I'm aware that there's no point to doing so, and while it's a nice way to fill the time on a commute, it's not something that takes me as much time and effort as fanfic does. So... why do people bother? Sometimes I describe ideas I have and people I know in my fandom will tell me I should write it, but I don't see why. I get more interaction from just saying "imagine if [thing here]" than I would by sitting down, writing for hours, editing and posting [thing here], so what would the point be? I'm not punching down or going "haha women and their fanfic lol!", I genuinely do not get what the point is and this blog feels like it might have someone reading who knows the answer.
--
Do you make art for profit? Genuine question.
There's nothing inherently wrong with being motivated primarily by external factors, but it's not actually why a lot of people create things, whether it's books or recipes or doodles in a notepad.
I enjoy the actual process of writing.
I think many people lose sight of that aspect in an era where tons of <500-word fics that are mostly outlines and "Imagine if..." posts get disproportionate attention for being easy to consume. But the satisfaction of doing a bigger art piece and doing it right is real and motivates a hell of a lot of creation.
I suppose you might be thinking "Okay, but why not just write it alone and never post?", but I like sharing. Showing off my finished creation is part of the joy, and sharing with other people like me is too. But those aren't quite the same thing as worrying about kudos. It's like dressing nicely when you leave the house because you feel great when you know you look good vs. needing another person to tell you you look good.
To be honest, though, this type of feeling has grown in me the better I've gotten at a craft. The closer my finished projects get to the vision in my head, the easier it is to find them fulfilling and to be excited to share them. When I fall short of my own ambitions, it's discouraging no matter how much attention I might get from others.
I feel like it's time for my regular reblog of Adam Westbrook's video essay series The Long Game.
vimeo
vimeo
youtube
The third and least known in the series is all about this idea of who you're making art for if you're not getting material rewards in the short term. It talks a lot about autotelicity—being internally driven instead of externally.
--
But if you really just want clicks, anon, start a blog that accepts anon asks and posts about wanky stuff. Actually tag things, unlike me, so people can find you.
No, writing for attention isn't worth it.
The time investment is too great and your brain will always fixate on the times people didn't respond instead of the times they did.
But that's not actually why most people write.
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The cancellation might make sense from a numbers standpoint, as The Acolyte's budget was reportedly $180 million for eight episodes. (Never mind that a Star Wars show with fewer connections to existing IP was always going to be a riskier bet.) But from a storytelling standpoint, the decision does a major disservice to Star Wars going forward. It sends the unfortunate message that any attempts at original storytelling will be sidelined in favor of more self-referential slogs. Nothing new is allowed, nor is any show given the chance to grow past its first season unless it's an instant smash hit. So why even bother getting invested in a new Star Wars series in the first place? (Notably, Andor, the best Star Wars series, was guaranteed a Season 2 from the jump. Could you imagine if its low viewership resulted in an Acolyte-style cancellation?) 'The Acolyte' gave me hope for the future of Star Wars. Now, I'm not so sure. The loss of The Acolyte is also a blow to its audience, many of whom, like me, saw the series as a way to reconnect with a franchise that had otherwise lost their trust and interest. Whether people were seeing themselves in The Acolyte's diverse cast or rejoicing in Star Wars actually embracing an enemies-to-lovers romance, it was a joy to watch viewers geek out every week over the show's every twist and turn. Of course, there is a nasty flip side to that fandom. Bigoted, so-called Star Wars "fans" took every opportunity to attack the series with racist, sexist, and homophobic rhetoric, all because The Acolyte dared center women and people of color. Stenberg has been a target for this vitriol since her role in the show was announced, the same kind of racist attacks Star Wars actors like John Boyega, Kelly Marie Tran, and Moses Ingram faced before her. Following the cancellation announcement, comments on Stenberg's social media have been a parade of hateful gloating. (Thankfully, there is still quite a bit of support.) Clearly, this subset of the Star Wars audience views The Acolyte's cancellation as a moral victory and as proof that Star Wars remains "theirs." That Lucasfilm and Disney did little to speak out against this hate during The Acolyte's run speaks volumes.
👉 Renew the Acolyte - Sign the petition!
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Hello! Today is my birthday (well, in one hour it will be) and I was wondering if you could write a story with Crowley and Aziraphale with reader perhaps set in the tltdatsib series/world where it’s like the past sometime (whenever you’d like) and maybe Aziraphale (or Crowley) gets jealous that reader is paying more attention to the other and angst to fluff perhaps with makeup sex? Thank you! New to the fandom and love your work!
notes: I’m certain it was your birthday like two months ago by this point but uhhhhh enjoy!
pairing: aziraphale x reader x crowley (tltdatsib-verse)
rating: E
Crowley is jealous.
He thinks he’s doing a pretty good job at conveying it: huffing, sitting down heavily, crossing his arms (though definitely not pouting) but you and Aziraphale haven’t picked up on it.
For the amount of time you’ve been together, sometimes it does end up that two of you will spend more time together than all three. He’s had countless times when he’s headed off with Aziraphale around the world for work reasons, and he can firmly remember some stints in the seventies when the two of you hit the road to follow your favourite bands on tour.
Still, though. He doesn’t like it when it happens to him.
You and Aziraphale have been going to night time classes. He’s not quite sure what classes, neither of you have let that slip, but what it has meant is that you and the angel have been around each other incessantly. Together. He feels a bit elbowed out of it all, like the two of you have some little secret to giggle over.
Crowley swirls his wine in his glass and mopes a bit before swallowing it down, harrumphing quietly to himself as he hears the two of you open the door to the shop and walk in laughing. Probably at some private joke that he won’t be privy to.
“And I was just— oh, hello, Crowley. Why are you sitting in the dark, my love?”
He looks over to you and notices for the first time that he’s not bothered to put the lights on. He flinches as Aziraphale hits the light switch and the bookshop is bathed in a warm glow. The two of you carry on as if nothing is amiss; Aziraphale puts the kettle on, you hang up the coats.
“Have you just been there since we left?” you asked, concern creeping into your voice. Crowley takes another quaff.
“Maybe. Not sure why you’d care.”
He sniffs loudly and out of the corner of his eye he can see your confusion.
“Love, what’s the matter?” you ask, crossing your arms, fully in no-nonsense mode. Aziraphale pokes his head out of the kitchen.
“Is something happening?”
You gesture for him to follow you. The kettle sings and turns off, ignored, and the two of you plonk down on the sofa either side of Crowley.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, gently but firmly, laying your hand on his knee.
“Well, maybe you’d know if you weren’t constantly disappearing off to your evening classes without me…” he knows he sounds petulant but honestly he sort of doesn’t care. He enjoys being petulant sometimes.
“Oh, Crowley,” you say softly, “we didn’t think you’d want to come, my darling.”
“I don’t want to come!” he snips, then deflates a little, putting down his wine, “But I would have done it if you asked.”
You and Aziraphale exchange a look. Ah. There it is. You’ve been around long enough to know that misunderstandings happen when communication doesnt. Either side of Crowley, you both take one of his hands.
“Crowley, dear. We weren’t excluding you to be unkind. We just didn’t want you to come because… well…”
“Look. We’ve been going to swing dance classes. And we’re really bad at it,” you finish. Aziraphale shrugs and nods. Crowley furrows his brow.
“What?”
“We’re so utterly pants. We can’t swing dance to save our lives and we’ve been going for weeks now.”
“We’re getting better!” Aziraphale says, “We don’t stand on each other’s feet half as much any more. But truth be told we are the worst in the class by a large margin - and we don’t want you to watch us dance until we’re worth watching.”
“It’s pretty humiliating. We were hoping one day we’d be able to show you properly. We wanted you to be impressed.”
Oh god. Crowley feels awful. The two of you weren’t trying to exclude him, you just wanted to be good enough to show off. He groans and buries his face in his hands.
“I’m an idiot,” he sighs.
“Well…”
He shoots you a withering look, but ends up smiling.
“My dear, you have to tell us if something is bothering you. Neither of us would want that,” Aziraphale says.
“If you’re feeling neglected you just need to say, and I’m sure we can make it up to you…”
This is all the incentive Crowley needs to allow the two of you to begin to touch him.
You kiss him first, long and slow, before freeing his lips for Aziraphale. Crowley loves the slick slide of his husband’s tongue along his, the way the angel’s warm hand skims the plateau of skin revealed as his shirt is lifted up. You work your way down Crowley’s body and end up on your knees between his legs, your hands making light work of his jeans.
“Ahh, there we are,” you sigh, finding him half-hard and stroking him to his full length. You take a moment to inhale the musky scent of him before you touch your tongue to the tip of his cock, and he bucks as if you’ve run a thousand volts through him.
“Shit—!”
“Language,” Aziraphale mutters against his lips. The demon’s shirt is hitched higher, Aziraphale begins to run his thumb in a circle around the peak of his nipple.
“Such a lovely boy,” you hum as you press kisses down the length of his shaft. Crowley doesn’t identify as male necessarily, but he does enjoy hearing you call him a ‘lovely boy’. It makes him feel small and safe, adored.
He relaxes into the couch and lets you both take care of him. By the end of the evening, and several orgasms later, he can tell you’re both very sorry for making him feel ignored. But if this is the way you make it up to him, maybe he doesn’t mind too much…
tags: @angiestopit @foolishprincipalitee @smile-eywa @staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @bdffkierenwalker @cool-iguana @ilyatan @civil-groupie @willyoubethepookietomypookster @lxsm2 @clarina04 @wtfhasmy-lifecometo @mrgatotortuga @wereallbrokenangels @night-affiliate @silcosmoke @kimqueenofhell @chewbrry @bajablast23 @h3k3t @am-i-obsessed---maybe @bakerstreethound@a-mediocore-writer@darktealrat @chaospossum @belilwen @rex-ray @hunterispunk
#aziraphale x reader x crowley#crowley x reader x aziraphale#good omens x reader#ineffable husbands x reader#Request#fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween
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I know we've all been discussing about when and where JereJean get together in terms of captain-player dynamic
But tbh if I were Jeremy and about to start my last year (5th year for players, so he's about to be 23 iirc) I just could NOT imagine dating a 19yo. No matter how attractive, if it ends in TEEN for me that's a kid. Even 20 would be pushing it, even if they were in my same year
I'm 22 now and I see 18/19yos as kids lol
As a survivor of CSA, the way most of this fandom discusses a teenager makes my skin crawl 🙃 he's not a "hot piece of meat" and yes, a 3-4 years age gap does matter, when he's a teen, has been abused his whole life, has a warped view of what humans are like
I know Nora sees no issues with age gaps (Andrew was a minor, 17 hooking up with 22/23yo Roland according to Nora's tweet, and no one in the books ever comments on it), but it's just weird to me
Like 3 years ago Jean was 16 and joined the Ravens to be raped, tortured, brutalized, and on top of that he was also completely isolated from "normal" society throughout his childhood
His situation is even worse than Neil's, because Neil at least had someone fighting with him and for him before she was killed
Hell even Andrew had a more normal (albeit tragic) upbringing. Foster homes and abuse but he still knows how to function in society when he has to (he just refuses to most of the time)
Meanwhile Jean is extremely codependent and needs a designated partner to function
There's a difference between growing up abused (Neil, Andrew) and growing up in a CULT and abused (Jean, Kevin to an extent, although he was not property and incredibly privileged compared to Jean)
I'm not saying Jean is defenseless. He's a fighter. He WILL stand up for himself, I'm 100% sure of it. And won't just let others fight his fights.
But he also grew up completely removed from normal human interactions and still has to learn how to be his own person rather than just an "ex Raven" (and he still can't fully accept that)
(Kevin too; he became an alcoholic to cope)
His past of sexual abuse + young age make his situation even more delicate when it comes to romantic and/or sexual relationships
I wish the fandom would see that. This goes beyond the captain-player dynamic issue.
I would love nothing more but for Jeremy to remember that throughout the series (as he's already realized it) and put his attraction aside
I fully support JereJean in the future, when they've both graduated and Jean has gone pro (idk what Jeremy will do, I can't remember if Nora ever said). When Jean can breathe a little easier knowing that he's made it and the Moriyamas are getting his money. When he's learned to live and work alone. When he's learned that his friends love him unconditionally
But right now? He needs a break. Just let the guy live 😩
... or rather, learn to live
And that's what bothers me the most: Jean still needs to LEARN HOW TO LIVE. He's a complicated, traumatized, fierce character fighting tooth and nail to learn how to live a normal life, how to be a person rather than property, an asset, a Raven
But most of the fandom just sees him as part of a ship.
That's where all the OOC fanfiction comes from, people either brushing his trauma aside or hyper focusing on just one aspect of it, all in service of their ship (same as with Andreil)
Sometimes the stuff I see is sooo OOC the only thing it has in common with aftg is the character names
I agree with you completely!!!!
The age gaps in this series bother me quite a bit. The Andrew / Roland thing was seriously messed up even if Andrew was the one calling the shots. Kevin and Thea is another one. Renee and Jean is even worse now that we know his age (24 vs 19?!?!?!??? What on earth????). Jeremy is a little closer in age, but it is still the better part of three years ahead.
Now, I do want to say when I was in college I did date someone two years older, but he was in my grade. With Jeremy I understand Jean is technically only a grade below, and that he’s 2.75 years younger, but it does make a difference. Jeremy honestly has a better grip on Jean’s trauma and the situation than this fandom tbh.
I was honestly very surprised when Nora told us Jean was 19 ESPECIALLY because Jeremy has to be at least 22. And idk if ppl forget that he’s older on top of the dynamic they have going but adding being older to his captaincy AND to the fact that he’s been in normal society where Jean has not… he does have power where Jean doesn’t.
And I’m not saying Jean can’t be in a relationship, I think jean can function way better than most people give him credit for or he literally would not be able to go day to day, but I do think it’s important for him to grow a bit before he gets into it with Jeremy. (I am not saying it has to be post college per se, just that the guy needs to heal a bit first). A lot of this fandom puts TOO much pressure on Jeremy to show him how to function, and while I think Jeremy can help I definitely do not think he should be labeled with this caretaker/savior thing the fandom has going on.
ESPECIALLY with sex. And now I’m not an NSFW blog but I need to address it. I’ve seen takes where Jean cannot even talk about sex but he and Jeremy are deep into a sexual relationship. If Jean cannot talk about sex he should not be having it. That’s like sex 101. It also really weirds me out when they make Jeremy show him the ropes of sex or call the shots or have Jean ask him to call the shots, but that’s just my personal opinion. This man had 0 autonomy in that nest. I do not think he should or would be handing that autonomy to Jeremy the minute he gets some. (Also he’s currently NINETEEN. Why is Jeremy DOMMING HIM half the time??????????)
I also agree about the OOC fics. There are a select few that do not (and I’ve said this so many times so I’m sorry if you’re sick of me) turn Jean into a submissive little woman (woman as in society’s idea of what a woman should be, not an actual woman) and Jeremy into this big bad alpha male type that needs to direct Jean’s every move.
Not only are those takes OOC, but it’s super weird.
Idk, it all just rubs me the wrong way.
#jean moreau#jeremy knox#jerejean#thank u for trusting me to respond to this!!#hopefully it makes sense
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stupid ideas
prompt: seeing double
whumpee: river cartwright
fandom: slough house, slow horses
hiii here's another installment of me beating up my boy <3 hope you enjoy it!
It’s one of those exceedingly rare days where he’s been given a task to do that takes him out of Slough House.
Granted, he’s taking the bus one stop, picking up an envelope from an acquaintance of Lamb’s, and returning, but still. Gets him out.
Honestly, he’d bet money that there’s nothing of any value in the envelope—quite possibly, there’s nothing in it at all, and Lamb just wants to send him on a particularly stupid errand.
Not that there’s any other kind of errand where Lamb is concerned.
So River’s on the bus, for all of two minutes, and then he’s on the pavement, and it’s just his luck that a car drives past and splashes him with muddy rainwater as he’s waiting to cross the road.
Just great, he thinks bitterly, stomping across the crosswalk. He can already see Lamb’s acquaintance waiting for him beneath the faded awning of what appears to be an Italian restaurant. The man looks vaguely amused, which does nothing to improve River’s mood.
They don’t so much as exchange a word. The man hands him the envelope, which does at least look as if it’s got something in it, though maybe it’s just a takeout menu for this place. That done, the other man nods, then turns around and enters the restaurant behind him.
For a second, River thinks about following. It’s near enough to lunchtime, and this would keep him out of the office for longer.
Except that the glimpse of the restaurant he’d gotten through the open door hadn’t seemed terribly inviting or terribly on par with basic standards of cleanliness. He’d rather not end up with food poisoning, even if it would mean a day or two off work.
And so he heads for the bus stop, instead.
It seems that he’s only just missed his bus. He could walk and make it back to Slough House before the next one arrives, but there’s no point hastening the inevitable. He finds a space for himself inside the shelter and stares at the traffic passing by.
A few more people join him, seeking cover from the rain as they wait. The bus shelter crowds up quickly, and River finds himself wishing he hadn’t bothered with it.
He catches a glimpse of his bus approaching and begins pushing his way out of the crowd. And then someone grabs the hood of his jacket and tugs.
“Hey!” he yelps, struggling to break free. “What the fuck?”
Whoever’s got a hold of him is strong, and River finds himself being pulled backwards against his will. And then, just like that, he’s released, but he doesn’t manage to take so much as a step before he’s being shoved forwards from behind.
His head collides with the glass wall of the bus shelter hard enough to make him taste blood, but not hard enough to shatter the glass. For a second, he’s stunned, can’t do anything amidst the sounds of people gasping and shouting, and then the world more or less resumes its normal dimensions.
The bus stop has cleared out, and only a few people remain—it seems he’s missed his bus again. Those still there are alternately avoiding looking at him and outright staring.
“Are you alright?” one of them, an old woman, asks.
“I’m fine,” River replies stiffly. He starts walking away, giving up on the bus in favor of the pavement. He hopes he’s not bleeding. Doesn’t feel like explaining to anyone, “Yeah, someone threw me into the wall of a bus shelter. No, I didn’t see who. No, I don’t know why.”
A quick pat-down of his pockets reveals the continued presence of his phone and wallet, as well as the envelope. Better be bloody worth it, he thinks, though he knows it won’t be.
As he wanders down the pavement, heedless of the rain, River becomes more and more aware of the fact that his head fucking hurts.
Which is not exactly a surprise. What had he expected, after getting slammed into a glass wall?
It’s annoying, though. But he reminds himself that it’s only a matter of time before he gets back to Slough House, where at least a bottle of paracetamol awaits him. He’ll be fine.
He shakes his head slightly, like he can physically brush away the ache.
This accomplishes the exact opposite thing, and his head spins. His vision doubles for a few seconds, and he stops dead still in the middle of the pavement.
He’s treated to a few seconds of verbal abuse from his fellow pedestrians before he makes his feet start moving again.
Fuck, that had been a stupid idea.
He makes it the rest of the way back to Slough House without any further issue, unless you count the gradual increase in the intensity of his headache with every passing second spent amidst the clamor and lights of a busy London afternoon.
He’ll just take a few painkillers, and it’ll be fine.
Back in Slough House, he makes a pit stop at his desk for said painkillers, dry-swallows the maximum dose (which is another stupid idea, and just adds a pain in his throat to the pain in his head). That done, he makes his way to Lamb’s office as slowly as humanly possible.
Lamb doesn’t so much as glance up from his task when River arrives. He stands on the threshold and waits, rocking back and forth on his heels, until Lamb has finished scratching between his toes with a novelty, Christmas-themed pen.
“Took your time, didn’t you?” Lamb observes, tossing the pen into a dark corner. Its light-up red nose briefly illuminates a takeout container that might qualify as toxic waste before blinking out.
River doesn’t answer, momentarily transfixed by the pen’s flight across the room. By the time he realizes Lamb is still saying something to him, it’s too late.
He spends what feels like an eternity being verbally berated for nothing in particular—a Lamb specialty—before he can take no more.
He pulls the envelope, slightly damp, out of his pocket, tosses it onto Lamb’s desk, and leaves.
He makes it about halfway down the stairs before he has to stop and brace himself against the wall. His vision has started to double up again and there’s a nauseous feeling slowly creeping up the back of his throat.
So he’s fucking concussed. Great.
He makes it down the rest of the stairs with all the speed and grace of a senior citizen, and collapsing into his desk chair feels like some kind of salvation.
For far too long, he just sits there, eyes closed, breathing slowly, and generally trying very hard not to either throw up or pass out.
This works moderately well, at least, it does until there’s a horrible crash right outside his door, followed by an exasperated, though rather polite, “Fuck!”
River flinches, then groans.
“Sorry, River!” Catherine calls out, and even this is far too loud. The following noise of her tidying up the shards of glass is somehow worse, but he can hardly do anything about it.
He puts his head down onto his desk and tries to block out everything.
This doesn’t really work, and the next thing he knows Catherine’s voice is a good deal closer than it had been before.
“Are you alright?” she asks, and he nearly jumps out of his chair. He hadn’t realized she’d moved closer, that she’d stopped cleaning. He feels like he can still hear the shards of glass bouncing off of each other.
He slowly turns to look at her. There’s sort of one-and-a-half of her, and the faces overlap, but he’s pretty sure she looks worried.
“What’s happened?” she asks, and she sounds worried, too.
“Nothing,” River says thickly, because he doesn’t want to explain.
“River.”
To his horror, he feels tears pricking at his eyes and an uncomfortable sensation in his throat. It’s fucking stupid. He went out on a stupid errand for his stupid boss, and some fucking idiot slammed him into a fucking bus shelter, and now his head hurts so fucking much, and he just wants to not be here, for the painkillers to start working, and he wants to be at home and he wants it all to stop.
“It’s fine,” he snaps, and the words echo through his head and make everything worse.
“You’re not well,” Catherine replies, apparently undeterred. “Are you ill?”
He shakes his head a bit too violently and immediately casts doubts upon this answer by throwing up, narrowly missing his own shoes.
Things get a bit fuzzier, then. The pain in his head gets even worse, pounding and consuming his thoughts, and things triple and blur, and the next thing he knows Lamb, of all people, is shining a flashlight into his eyes, which fucking hurts, is he trying to kill him?
“He’s concussed,” he hears Lamb say. River gets the sense this isn’t directed at him, but the question that follows definitely is. “What the fuck happened?”
“Got pushed…in a bus shelter,” is what River manages to say. He doesn’t think this is his best explanation, but he lacks the words to make it better.
Lamb mutters something else, which River fails to understand, and then someone is pulling him to his feet. For a second his vision whites out, and when it returns, he finds himself being manhandled out of Slough House and into a car he vaguely recognizes as Louisa’s.
“Where we going?” he manages to ask, not sure whether he’s addressing the driver—surely Louisa herself—or the person beside him, who he thinks might be Catherine.
It’s Louisa that responds. “A&E.” Her voice is clipped and if River felt slightly less awful, he’d wonder about that.
As it is, he just hums in acknowledgement and lets his eyes drift closed, trying to distract himself from the unpleasant feeling of movement.
This doesn’t work terribly well, and he vaguely hears himself make a rather pathetic and completely involuntary noise as they go over some kind of bump.
“It’ll be alright,” comes Catherine’s voice from beside him. “You’ll be alright, River.”
He believes her—what else can he do? He lets that thought, that he’ll be alright, wash over him, and it distracts him, just for a moment, from the pain.
thanks for reading!! fun fact i am giving my boy river a concussion on the six month anniversary of me getting one myself :P love to see it lmao. hope you enjoyed, love you all etc etc amen <3
#whumptober2024#no.11#seeing double#fic#slough house#slow horses#river cartwright#concussed#head injury#comfort#my writing#i say things#btw. i am not british i am doing my best to sound british i hope it's not too awful lol
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Good evening wonderful fandom! SO glad to have a new ep to do some quick thoughts on. I missed our babies. As stated few weeks back the gif library is a turd right after an ep. So quick hand made ones till summer. Off we go.
6x04 Training Day
Lucy saying she’s fine as she consistently does all her fidgety tells screaming she is anything but LOL Tim picking this up too love it. Smart man saying what he does about “being fine.” They cute with her saying 'Does he want her to be upset?' He's so good at making her laugh in this moments. Makes my heart happy. Till John appears.... Way to jump in on their moment Nolan. Of course the man makes it worse…She was laughing before you got there John…Tim's face when she takes off. Like if I could punch you Nolan...
Oh Lucy... Definitely hitting her hard she’s still a patrol officer. Tasks that didn't used to bother her as much are. Ugh my girl. This is rough. You are anything but fine my friend…Poor Lucy last thing she needs is more alone time with her thoughts at a scene that'll take forever to wrap up. Not only that but babysitting puke…I think our girl is headed toward quite spiral that has yet to happen. Tim is gonna do his best to keep her sane but I have a gut feeling we are headed there. I could be wrong but just how I'm feeling.
Lucy killing me softly watching Juarez and Nolan get recognized on Tv. Mmm I am loving Tim coming to pick her up yum yum. Lucy mentioning almost getting that call... Damn nothing going her way today. Or lately... Think her only sanity at this point is that man next to her. Tim of course is picking up on it immediately knowing her mood is linked to Primm. Knows his girl so well. Stating she was hoping could've proved him wrong with catching a call like that.
I love this scene. Lucy telling Tim about her crappy day and Tim giving her perspective. Saying she could be the big hero tomorrow. Not only that but making her smile as well. Look at him building her up like it’s second nature. Cause it is. Damn I love these two. Him basically leaning on her and bumping her shoulder with his telling her not to be too greedy hehe That Lucy smile of his loud and proud. Making her beam as well. She loves this man next to her so much.
Oh my lord this entire scene had my heart racing. What an absolute BAMF our girl is holy hell. Tim would've lost his mind seeing this. Hell I did. I screamed when she got hit and my dog ran from the room LOL The looks on Harper/Lopez's face when she went down oh my goodness. The absolute panic on their faces. Right there with you ladies. This was a huge risk she took to prove herself. One like I said Tim would’ve lost his mind at seeing.
Lucy was definitely being the big hero this entire scene oh my lord my heart was pounding. What a way to impress Harper and Lopez but give me a damn heart attack. That scene in the ally with the brother..... I was worried when he didn’t stop she was gonna have to shoot him. Giving me 5x19 flashbacks. I think she is going to CARRY this with her for a long time. Being an empath is no joke. Our girl one of the finest even at her own detriment.
I was hoping for some insanely worried Tim and they DELIVERED. Like that man couldn't breathe till he set eyes on his girl. Oh my damn lord. The way he ran to get to her. Man on a mission doesn’t even stop to check in with Grey. By-passes them completely. Only wants to get to Lucy. His hand on her head had me reeling everyone. It's the gentle way he caresses her hair I'm squeeing. Also his non stop touching.
Trying to ground her by letting her know he was there emotionally and physically. Rubbing his thumb up and down her her collar bone. The sweet squeezes. I'm a puddle.. The way this man has transformed because of her still blows my mind. The sweet comforting touches. I'm losing my mind. His adorable attempt at a joke telling her she didn’t have to take the hero suggestion literally. Ugh Lucy breaking my heart into million pieces. Saying she doesn’t feel like one.
Melissa you deserve all the awards madam I’m crying. Her little pre cry when he says they'll deal with it my damn heart. Killing me. I love how Tim's hands have not left her for 90 percent of this moment. Protective Tim was very much present in this scene with Wes. Grey was too being like dude let us take the win. Feral Tim having Wes back it off for tomorrow. Wade being the sweet man he is says that's ok. Lucy is going to be anxious about all this. I would be stressed about him succumbing to his injuries now that Wes said that. Read the room Evers lol
Gah Tim telling her let’s go home. Then we get another glorious hug where he encases her in his arms. Protecting her emotionally from this situation. Lucy burying herself in his embrace. Wrapping her arm around him tightly to ground herself again. She needed to fall apart in his arms before they left. THIS IS SOO GOOD. Annnnnnd another head kiss I’m dead I am writing these thoughts from the grave.
Oh my word this season has delivered in spades both friggin crap. I’m out of breath from this episode in the best way. Also whoever does the music needs a raise I say it time and time again. But that song was perfection against the backdrop of this final scene. Was telling D earlier I already need to change my header to it.
I love this hug SO much it's insane. Sure I'll write a novel on it this summer. Having everything that's going on plus this I think our girl is hurtling toward a breakdown of some sort. Some actual UC/detective feelings coming with it. Cause our girl is anything but fine. I'm so excited to see where we go from here S6 has every bit worth the wait. I cannot wait till next week
~~
Side notes -non Chenford
Yay Aaron progress in therapy. Back to active duty ha his heart rate going up for her too cute.
We finally get Nyla’s new hair style. Loving it
Adore the idea of Tim being one to take Aaron back out. Ain’t no one better.
Mmmh love hard ass TO Tim in metro uniform yummy. Does things to me. Aaron thinking he got this TRAIN but there is panic there.
‘Train is leaving the station officer Thorsen.’ Mmmm He does impress Tim for this first call. Yay Aaron haha
Giving Aaron only 9 minutes before bouncing him back to being a rookie oh my lord Timothy. I love you so much.
I do adore watching Tim watching Aaron do well. I’m sure there is a part of him that misses being a teacher. You can see it in these scenes. The pride and excitement he gets when Aaron is doing well. Aaron doing little fist pump and Tim shaking his head I’m dying.
Also How can Tim make leaning against a chair look so sexy? I want to be the chair he is leaning against in this scene with the wife LOL
Glad he passed Tim's TRAIN test. Glad they took their time getting him back out there. Was realistic
Feel free to comment any and all thoughts. I welcome them. See you all next week!
#Caitlin's mini reviews#chenford#S6#6x04 Training Day#The rookie 6x04#otp: unless it is#otp: doing my job#tim x lucy#tim bradford#lucy chen#the rookie#lucy x tim#eric winter#melissa o'neil#tim bradford x lucy chen
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All That She Wants Chapter 3: Let's Talk
Series: All That She Wants
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairings for this chapter: Riley x Drake
Word Count: 1,264
Rating: M
Warnings for this chapter: tiny flakes of lemon
My other stuff: Master List.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, matting his hair and dripping onto the glistening skin of the woman writhing underneath him.
It had been a month since Drake had taken Riley back to his room and done all the things he’d fantasized about for so long. She’d come back the next day and the day after that.
And then she’d gone back to being friendly and polite, but nothing more.
Until tonight.
Though he had been determined to demand a conversation, all his resolve had crumbled the moment he’d opened his door to find her standing on the other side.
He had given in to her so easily, and now her legs were wrapped around his waist, her nails sunk into the tanned flesh of his shoulder blades, and his cock was buried deep inside her.
His name fell from her lips as she shuddered beneath him, and he slammed into her one last time, sending streams of milky hot liquid erupting into her.
He nuzzled into the side of her neck as he caught his breath, unwilling to move off her just yet.
He wasn’t ready for this to be over.
He breathed in the scent of lilac and lavender mingled with sweat and sex. His tongue and lips trailed down her supple skin, the taste salty and sweet.
She made approving noises at first, but then she pushed at him to get him to roll off her. “It’s hot and you’re sweaty.”
“So are you.” He countered, but he complied by dropping his body onto the mattress next to her.
“Yes, I know. I need to borrow your shower.”
The unspoken part hung in the air between them. She couldn’t go back to her husband reeking of sex.
They lay side by side for several long minutes; him searching her face for something he couldn’t quite find.
Part of him was afraid of scaring her away, but a bigger part needed to know what was going on. He couldn’t face the prospect of her leaving and him not knowing if or when he’d see her again. “Listen, Riley. We need to talk.”
“About?”
“What we’re doing here.”
“I thought that was obvious.”
“Haha. Seriously. Listen. I know I have a reputation, Riley, but—”
She cut him off with an incredulous laugh. “You say that like it’s not a well-deserved reputation. You’ve been with a lot of women!”
He blew out a breath of frustration. “I have been with a lot of women, but—”
“It’s okay, Drake. You’re safe.” She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “I know you don’t do relationships, and I’m not asking you for one. I get it.”
“No, you don’t!” He shot upright, grabbed her arm, and pulled her back. “I want a relationship, Riley!”
She gave him a puzzled look as she shifted her body into the same cross-legged sitting position he had settled into. “No, you don’t. In the entire time I’ve known you, you’ve never dated the same woman for more than a few weeks. And it’s not for lack of opportunity. They throw themselves at you. I’ve seen it.”
His eyes searched her face for any trace of jealousy. “Does that bother you?”
Her brows furrowed momentarily. “What?”
“The women, Riley!” He exploded. “Do you care, even a little, when you see me with someone else?”
He read nothing but confusion in her eyes as she shook her head, “Why would you think—”
“Because it fucking kills me every time I see you with Liam, that’s why! I thought it was just me, all one-sided, but then you… this happened…” he gestured between them.
“What are you saying, Drake?”
“I’m saying that I want a fucking relationship, Riley, but the woman I want it with married my best friend!”
“I…I didn’t know…” she looked stricken.
His voice went quiet as he asked, “Is that why you didn’t give me the courtesy of a heads-up before you got engaged?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh my god, Drake! I had no idea that you ever had feelings like that for anyone, much less for me!”
“Yeah, well, I am in ample possession of plenty of feelings… I just don’t see the point of sharing them with most people.”
“I don’t know what to say. I never knew you felt that way.”
“Why did you think that night happened?”
“Um…. Because you’re Drake Walker and you sleep with anyone and everyone?”
“I do not!”
She arched her eyebrows.
“Okay, I have been around the block a time or two, but do you really think I would have slept with someone Liam was interested in if I didn’t have genuine feelings for them?”
She twirled a loose strand of hair around a fingertip as she considered that. “I mean…we had been drinking, so I chalked it up to that.”
“Would it have made a difference if I’d told you how I felt?”
“Back then? No.” She had been too in love with Liam to give serious consideration to anyone else.
“And now?”
“Drake…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything. I assumed this was just fun and games for you. You know I love Liam. I married him!”
His eyes squeezed shut, pain swirling through him. His voice was clipped as he bit out, “Then why are you here?”
Her gaze drank him in as she considered whether or not to confide in him. One look into his misery-filled eyes convinced her that he was never going to use anything she told him against her.
She could trust him.
Her eyes were trained on her fingers as they twisted the edge of the sheet. Drawing a shaky breath, she admitted, “I can’t remember the last time Liam touched me.”
Drake went still as a soft, “Ah.” slipped from his lips.
She looked up, stunned at the tone she detected in his voice. “You’re not surprised.”
He sighed, unwilling to divulge Liam’s secrets no matter how in love he was with Riley. He hadn’t known they weren’t sleeping together, but in light of the information, he did know exactly why.
Seeing a possible way out without lying, he opted for a truth that wasn’t the whole truth. “I didn’t realize that you two weren’t…. I mean…” a crimson flush crawled up his neck and spread across his face as he stumbled over his words.
For the first time since they started this serious conversation, Riley laughed. It was a short, ironic laugh. She reached for his hand. “Geeze, Drake, after what we just did, are you really afraid to use words like sleeping together? Having sex?” She leaned closer with a hint of provocation lacing her voice. “Fucking?”
The flush went a shade deeper. “Riley!”
Her eyes traced across his face in pleased astonishment. Drake Walker, a known lothario, had somehow regressed into a skittish schoolboy because of her.
She couldn’t repress the smile or the soft laugh that burst out of her at the realization. Her fingers flew to her lips to try to cover it, but he noticed.
“Fuck!” He dropped his face into his hands to hide it from her. “I’m sorry for acting like an idiot.”
“No,” she reached out and gently pried his hands away from his face. “I like this new side of you.”
“Really?” He lifted his head and gazed at her with such tender hope and tortured longing that her heart stuttered in her chest, and butterflies exploded through her.
Well, shit.
That hadn’t been part of the plan.
#the royal romance#trr#drake walker#the royal romance fanfic#drake x mc#drake x riley#angelasscribbles#choices#choices fic writers creations#cfwc fics of the week#choices stories you play#choices trr#trr au#trr au fanfic
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don't kiss and do tell, or where you and him have to kiss to prove a point that you're dating
word count 724 fandom harry potter pairing slytherin boy (draco, enzo, mattheo, theo, etc.) x gn!reader warnings none
summary you both have to prove that you guys are together but only at the expense of breaking one of the rules on your contract
BROKEN. you figured that you would have to eventually break the second clause of the contract, but not as soon as you thought you were going to have to. in honesty, it was not that big of a deal. you did not understand what was bothering you about breaking one rule. it did not mean anything. well, maybe it was the fact it was not out of love, but you can always retract your first, right?
“some people don’t believe that we’re dating, because we’re not openly affectionate,” he leaned against his chair, taking what may be his seventh break from studying his notes, more so the notes that you had to revise since he does what he calls his short-handed notes, also known as not paying attention enough to write the need to knows.
you looked up from filling in the rest of his notes, “well, not all relationships are lovey-dovey. makes me gag a little, thinking about having to make out with my significant other, just to prove love. plus, we agreed to show little affection, you were the one who added the very minimal affection.”
“well, it would have been rude of me to overstep your boundaries or to disregard the vast amount of stories that makes you being a hopeless romantic quite obvious. a first kiss at a sunset, flower field, or at the lake. as long as it’s nothing too public,” he summarized your rambling about how you were heavily opposed to losing your first kiss because the want in having a perfect moment to remember.
“aww, i didn’t realize that you cared about me so much. you’re not falling for me, are you?” you wiggled the quill in his face before tickling the feathered end to the tip of his nose.
he batted the pen away, trying to stop himself from sneezing at the ticklish sensation, “i’m just being respectful.”
you snorted before resorting back to fixing his notes, “okay, whatever you say. just found it funny that you remembered all of that.”
there was not a response, just him looking around the library to find the next most interesting to look and watch. you glanced up to him, only to see that he was carefully listening to the group of students that was a shelf or two over, seeing how far he was tilting his chair. you almost snorted once more, as he almost fell backwards by being leaning too far back. again, the second time in one study session.
“how far can we go on clause two?” he whipped his head back, the sound of his chair creating a loud as he stopped leaning backwards and instead reaching over the table to look at you.
his presence a lot closer than before, feeling his breathe and even almost hearing the sound of his blinking. you stayed in his proximity, he opted to stare at you in a closer range than you first appreciated, but it felt… nice. you cocked your head to the side, giving him the same amount of eye contact. even if he does this often and felt rather awkward the first couple of times, it felt.. nice. you cleared your throat, “well, what are you thinking?”
“the students over are gossiping again, saying that a kiss seals the deal and they’ll send someone over to do a walk by,” he adjusted his chair, sliding over to yours, grabbing a couple of looks from those in front of you from the sound of the loud chair once again.
“a cheek kiss, maybe. on the lips, feign it, maybe. i don’t know, like i wouldn’t mind. why, what do you in m,” you matched his hushed tones, watching him scramble for a book, just as confused.
though, your rambling was cut off as the student that was supposed to do the walk by came into the peripheral of your eyes. the sight was soon covered, as he lifted an open book in front of you, feeling his closeness yet again. before having the chance to say anything, his lips met yours, even if prying eyes cannot peek past the obstacle. nice. the only word you can think of, nice. what felt so long yet short, he pulled away, only to have that pompous smirk on his face.
“you’re not falling for me, are you?”
#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy x reader#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle imagine#lorenzo berkshire x reader#lorenzo berkshire imagine#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x reader#hp fanfic#harry potter#rilakeila slytherin <3#fanfiction#fanfic
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Addressing how Persephone is sexualized in Lore Olympus.
Soooo... here's the thing, I LOVE Lore Olympus. I love the art style, the magic, how it mixes greek mythology with the modernday and it's reimagine of the character's, that it's not afraid to deel with sierous issue and I relate with Persephone on a very personal level. I found the webtoon at a time when I really needed an escape from things happing in my life and Lore Olympus was there comfort and inspire me.
I have a lot of love for this webtoon, however... there's some problems I had with how Persephone was sexualized in the first season. There were moment's where she was viewed in a fetishized male gaze that was ... not great 😖 (case and point 👇)
This portrayal unfortunately falls under the sexy baby trope and I found this very strange and out of place in a story that is suppose to a feminine retelling of greek mythology.
Now I dont mind that Persephone is sexualized since she is of age and it's a part of her character arc. Her story is about gaining agency after being sheltered her whole life and understanding her sexuality is a part of that. Her reclaiming of her trauma and sexuality is one of the reasons way a lot of people enjoy the webtoon and can relate with this verson of Persephone.
So why is she portrayed under the male gaze in a way that does not support the core of her character? It's especially worse when we are seeing Persephone through Hades eye's, witch doesn't help since the age gap is a controversial topic in the fandom and a lot people think that LO is pedophilia, and these moment's didint help the romance or Hades as a character.
And that sucks because as far a retelling of the Hades and Persephone myth goes, I acually like how most of there relationship is handled and the age gap dose not bother me as mush, mostly because I think that Hades is somewhat emotional stunted do to his trauma and that him and Persephone are at the same level intellectually, and a lot of there relationship is quite healthy albeit some what codependent. It definitely is not perfect and I do wish that the romance could have been handle defiantly at times, mostly with the framing and the language that they use in some scenes.
I've seen some people compare Lore Olympus to Twilight and Fifty Shades of Gray and even though there are some similarities ( both having a young woman discovering her sexuality and a immortal or rich boyfriend/ husband), but the core difference is that Hades is not abusive or possessive twords Persephone and treats her with respect.
Lucky with season 2 and 3 the gross male gaze moment's where mostly removed and we saw more of the female gaze, (not just because we got more shirtless Hades 🤭) but because of how Persephone is portrayed sexually. (case and point 👇)
Persephone isn't fetishized like she is in season 1 instead she's shown as powerful and has agentsy over her own boby, the focus is more on the intimacy, connection and longing between her and Hades and when we do see Persephone trough Hades eye's she's viewed with tenderness and seen as a beautiful desirable women and not a sexy baby. Also it should be notice that after the ten year banishment Persephone is thirty year's old when she and Hades gets married and have sex for the first time.
This some what redeemed Lore Olympus for me and even though the webtoon it far from perfect there is nothing wrong enjoying and finding value in this story as long we view it with our brain's turnd on.
Just to be clear this not a anti Lore Olympus post, I am simply addressing one of the problematic aspects of the webtoon because I feel like we should acknowledge it's flaws while enjoying the story and characters.
#lore olympus webtoon#lore olympus#webtoon#Hades and Persephone#lore olympus criticism#the female gaze#lo persephone#lo criticism#rachel smythe#lo critical#lore olympus persephone
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Answer if you have the balls and you're woman enough to do so, but I know you're not. Anyway, here goes.
So, you and your little cult of pick-mes are at it again, huh? Slandering Caroline for no real reason other than because she existed. Man, you guys are relentless. You just can't help yourselves, can you? And you say it's Caroline fans/Klaroline shippers who are the ones who start and harass you. And I know that's bullshit, because I don't see Caroline fans or Klaroline shippers doing anything except minding their own business, not bothering anyone whatsoever and keeping to themselves, and enjoying what they like just like everyone else does. It's you and every other Bonnie fan that's the problem. You're the ones that always look to start a problem or cause some kind of drama, all because you can't stand Caroline is more loved and liked by the fans than your faves. But oh well, that's just how it is.
And it's funny you say Bonnie was justified in acting the way she did when Caroline turned, when it's basically her fault that Caroline ever became a vampire in the first place. Quite frankly, Bonnie deserved way more heat and should've faced deeper consequences for her role in the S1 finale. And don't even get me started on the lame, half-assed bullshit excuse she gave, that "she couldn't do it, because her Grams wouldn't have." Really??? But then she has the nerve to treat her best friend like shit for something that was her own fault and that Caroline didn't ask for whatsoever, that was completely out of Caroline's hands? Fuck out of here, give me a fucking break!
But anything to hate Caroline for, right? Anything to basically make her out to be the devil incarnate. Yeah, Caroline wasn't perfect, but guess what? Neither were any of your shitty ass faves. Get the fuck over yourselves.
Also, gotta love how you only think Tyler deserved better where it concerns Caroline, but you say nothing whatsoever about what Hayley did to him in S4, which in my opinion was 1000x worse than Caroline sleeping with Klaus. But I guess since it didn't involve Caroline, it doesn't matter as much and only then, does Tyler not deserve better, huh? And what about his pack of hybrids? They didn't deserve better than what Hayley did to them? No, I guess not.
Lastly, I'm by no means a Klaroline shipper, but I give no fucks about Caroline having slept with Klaus, simply because that's the big fuck you that everyone in the Mystic Falls Gang deserved. Especially Elena, who knowingly and shamelessly was sleeping with Caroline's abuser/rapist and gave no fucks about it 🙂 But this is who you deem the most "compassionate" and "selfless" girl? Yeah, more like the most selfish and self-centered. And that's exactly why she was the most hated character. And justifiably and deservedly so. Caroline is 10000x better than Elena ever was, and I know it that bothers you and burns you deep down inside. Because you know it's a fact and the truth. Oh well, die mad about it, hun.
Then people wonder why most of the fandom eventually comes to hate klaroline and/or Caroline. This are the same people who got a woman fired off her job and who had their favorite white woman be getting all the plots who belonged to Bonnie or shamelessy self-inserted into everything 💀
"My little cult" I'm fucking dying with laughter, your pretty little sunshine vampire wouldn't be alive without Bonnie, actually no one in Mystic Falls would be alive if not for Bonnie. If people are getting harassed again by the same crazy Caroline stan, all my prayers. Just ignore this cunt 💞
#klaus mikaelson#caroline forbes#bonnie bennett#elena gilbert#damon salvatore#stefan salvatore#hayley marshall#tyler lockwood#the originals#the vampire diaries#tvd#to#elijah mikaelson#hope mikaelson#rebekah mikaelson#kol mikaelson
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I need to know if I’m alone in this or maybe missing something.
It always bothers me when people say Tim’s childhood was so much worse than Jason’s, or even says they’re the same kinda thing. Am I the only one in this?? (More specifically when they compare them) Like it feels like they’re minimizing Jason’s story to nothing, when it makes his character up as much as his death does. (I’ve even seen people compare Tim’s childhood to Jason’s death, which is. A choice.)
Granted, I’m not a big Tim fan (he’s a cool character, just not the one I focus on) so maybe I’ve missed some part of his canonical backstory or ive subconsciously got something against his character idk.
But from my understanding, Tim is a rich kid who was taken care of (as in, he always had what he needed), just his parents were neglectful? Or away? (Not to say this isn’t bad, of course wouldn’t wish that on a kid either)
But Jason’s lived surrounded by crime and poverty, hell we see panels where he’s hurt and generally not havin a great time.
And I’m fine with people making angst worse because like, favourite character. I’m sure I’m guilty of doing the same to Jason (fave character bias and whatnot) it’s just something that strikes me as odd. But hey, maybe I just don’t know about some canon panel that shows Tim’s childhood as a tragedy where he almost died countless times (another thing I’ve seen fans use)
So yeah. Generally, what do you think about this? I am not too great with character analysis & whatever else, but I like the stuff you’ve said in regards to characters. I know you’re a Jason fan, unsure about how you feel about Tim/how much you know, but curious about your opinion anyway. Thanks.
You are not alone, anon.
You’re also not missing anything in canon, Tim’s childhood was not a tragedy (his parents traveled a lot and he spent his time in boarding school). Were his parents on the neglectful side? Yes. Does that equate to being parentless and living on the street before the age of 12? No. I answered an Ask about Tim a little while ago explaining why I don’t really care much for Tim in the comics or a lot of fanfics. And I only ranted a little about how projecting Jason’s trauma onto Tim is Not. Cool. So maybe check that out.
As for my opinion on this … *takes a deep breath* Let me start by saying that everyone should like what they like, read what they want, write what they want, etc. No judgement or shame intended at all.
But … my opinion is that the enemy-to-caretaker trope is to blame for the over abundance of this dynamic in the fandom.
It seems like this trope grew out of/is a Gen take on enemies-to-lovers. I have absolutely no problem with this trope in general. In fact, I quite enjoy it in certain settings. But the thing is, lovers can be equals. But a caretaker, that has an inherent power imbalance to the relationship. A caretaker takes care of a person who is in some way weaker or less able than them.
So, to make Jason a caretaker for Tim, you somehow have to make Tim weaker, and with time and repetition that’s gotten amplified to much weaker.
The easiest way to do this is to jack up the angst and trauma of Tim’s origin story and increase his overall vulnerability. Because in reality, the inherent power imbalance between Jason and Tim is not that significant. Jason is only two years older than Tim. They’re both supposed to be badass vigilantes who can fight and solve crimes. Tim’s home life was loads more stable and supportive.
Play a few games of fanfic telephone, and all of a sudden you have a baseline of touch-starved Timmy who was made to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs as a wee little niblet and then Lazarus-mad Jason came along and tried to murder him repeatedly (nope), slit his throat (‘twas but a scratch), and generally traumatized him beyond repair (Tim is Robin, pretty sure he’s been beaten up before). 🤦♀️
That’s my opinion, anon! Thanks for the ask! 💙
#keen converses#an essay on the influence of the caretaker to enemy trope on the batfam fandom#tim is like plain cheerios#they’re fine#but why would i choose them when i can have honey nut#<- jason being the honey nut here#jason todd#tim drake
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